


Indisposition

by BirdhouseIYS



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate History, Coming of Age, Demonic Possession, Demons, Families of Choice, Family, Fantasy, Father-Son Relationship, Historical, Multi, Politics, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdhouseIYS/pseuds/BirdhouseIYS
Summary: The soul of a daemon has wandered the world for centuries, slaughtering humans to gain power. His perfect puppet may be the only being capable of orchestrating his downfall, with the assistance of a shadowy secret society that pulls the strings of politics both mortal and otherworldly at the beginning of the Renaissance.





	1. Prologue

_High atop a mountain, hidden away in the crags, a newly built temple stood. The white stones were clean and unblemished in the piercing sunlight that filtered from the newly set windows above, casting the hall in a burst of many colors._

_A young woman garbed in white perused the room slowly, watching the last few workers pace the floors as they completed the finishing touches._ _The building of these temples marked a new beginning for the organization she belonged to – and thoughts of where this new path might lead them made her somewhat uneasy._

_She turned to the entranceway when she heard footsteps approaching, her golden hair falling over her shoulders._

_"Good day, Ishtar."_

_She nodded and smiled slightly in greeting to the approaching scholar, her oldest and closest friend. Though they belonged to the same developing Order, the rigid separation interposed between them in recent years by their chosen paths often made it difficult to remember they were meant to be allies and not rivals._

_"Good day to you as well, Septimus. What brings you here?" she asked, her tone made uncomfortably formal and proper, by the fact that they were not alone and free to speak as affectionately as they normally would._

_Septimus smiled, stopping in front of her. He, in contrast to her, wore the deep indigo and black robes of the members of the Order who had chosen the path of darkness. His hair, which fell to his shoulders, was silver, and his eyes were a dark shade of slate-gray. The color of the lake in the autumn, she thought. "I thought to see how the construction was progressing, and to pay you a visit.”_

_"But... Shouldn't you be—” She stopped._

_"At the lower temple down the mountain, with the rest of my lot?" His smile faded, just barely, and he seemed the slightest bit hurt. He clearly knew that Ishtar had not entirely avoided the prejudices of her position – the leaders and organizers of the Order. Though her thoughts of superiority were largely unconscious, she did her best to quell them when they arose._

_Ishtar shook her head, internally chiding herself for thinking herself above him, even for a moment. "Forgive me. I meant no offense. Rather, it seems odd that you'd come, there really is nothing here for someone in your position. I thought you might have more to gain from time spent with your fellow scholars, not us peacekeepers… I'm afraid you'll find this visit to be a waste of time.”_

_Septimus shook his head. “Not at all, I believe our coexistence is vital to the survival of this Order. I believe we should spend time in eachother's respective domains. I was hoping I would find you here, actually..."_

_"Oh? And why, pray tell?"_

_"I find your views on the world fascinating, Ishtar. I can never fathom them for the life of me, no matter how many of the peacekeepers explain them, but still... I love to talk of them." He looked wistfully at her, his expression softened. “As much as we talk, our ideologies never come into conversation, I'm afraid.”_

_Ishtar smiled slightly at him, carefully watching the people milling around them to deter eavesdroppers. “And what would you like to speak about?”_

_"You who follow the light find your power in faith. You believe in that which is intangible, that which you cannot see, cannot hear, cannot feel. That which may not exist. Your view lies entirely in perception. Your duty is to carry out the will of our superiors without question, and ensure others do the same."_

_Ishtar stepped forward. "Do you mock our way of life, Septimus?"_

_"Of course not, Ishtar. Allow me to continue." He began to pace, slowly, but his gaze never left her eyes. "We of the dark draw strength from knowledge, from understanding. We seek enlightenment on everything, and do not believe in that which we cannot observe."_

_Ishtar blinked. “What, then?”_

_“I want to learn, Ishtar. I want to learn this world's secrets, I want to know its origin. I seek knowledge, knowledge that I cannot possibly hope to gain from human teachings. And I cannot obtain that on tangibility and observations alone.”_

_She felt her heartbeat quicken. He wouldn't. Septimus... She had always known he had far-fetched ideas, ever since they were children, but this seemed especially mad. She'd had her suspicions in the past about Septimus's dealings with the dark beings whose names none dared to speak, worshipped but feared, and largely left alone, but he could not possibly be seeking out the absolute knowledge forbidden to any human…_

_He could not be that foolish._

_Still, she felt she had to ask him. She had to hear it from him to reassure herself._

_“...What are you planning, Septimus?”_

_“A symposium with the dark. I want to know it all, Ishtar. I want to know_ everything. _” He smiled, the same gentle smile he always gave her. The smile that had swayed her to his side on so many matters, and threatened to do the same now. “You see, I believe that as powerful as our lifestyles are on their own, they can become almighty when united... I am going to attempt communication with the beings of the dark world... I will put faith in that darkness... In order to achieve absolute knowledge."_

_"You do realize what this would mean?" she asked him, an edge entering her voice. "You will upset our careful balance... you could destroy everything, Septimus!"_

_He couldn't do this, she knew, if anyone else of the order learned what he was planning, he would be executed. But he sounded so_ reasonable _about it. He truly believed he could gain something from this._

_He shook his head, turning slowly. "I will be in control of the knowledge I gain. Think of it, Ishtar, think of what I could do for the world, if I knew that much." His voice was softer now, the words a promise. "I...I had hoped you would be more accepting. But alas, I hoped in vain. In time, you will come to understand..."_

_Ishtar stood frozen in place, helpless to do anything but watch as he turned and slowly exited the room, his footsteps fading eerily into the hallways._

_She could not call out to him, clinging to a weak hope that he would abandon this folly on his own._


	2. Chapter I

All was quiet and still as the sun set on the woods, the heavy chill of autumn settling down to the forest floor. Distantly, the sounds of the nearby village faded as its denizens finished the last of their daily tasks, glad to shut themselves into the comfort of warm cabins and glowing hearths and forget the encroaching dark that surrounded them.

Up the mountain far beyond the village walls, beneath a great tree, a child slept. He had been there for some time, nestled into the deadfall, unnoticed by the hunters as they returned from their day’s work and the children that played in the deep woods. The light sharpness of the cold air cut through the thin clothes he wore, rousing him from his deep slumber.

Eyes the color of flames, set in a thin, angular face, opened slowly, focusing to take in dimly lit surroundings. His pale skin, dashed with freckles, stood out against the blackness that surrounded him.

The child blinked several times, peering around at the dim forest curiously without moving. He curled deeper into the shallow hollow in the earth, breathing in the old musk of soil and long-dead leaves.

Long tresses of thick, silky crimson hair spilled over his shoulders and into his eyes as he sat up slowly. He brushed the locks away as he carefully stood, using a tree for support. His legs were weak, they nearly buckled beneath him, but he steadied himself enough to remain standing. A shiver wracked his slender frame.

After a few long moments of observation, he moved, slowly, weakly pushing himself to a sitting position. Bits of dirt and grass clung to the loose clothing he wore, and he carefully tried to brush them away, finding his movements sluggish and clumsy.

_Welcome to the world of humans, child. I have led you here from our own world._

A voice spoke into his mind, mingling with his own thoughts. It was warm and powerful, startling him from his daze. He turned around in place, trying to place its source, but found nothing but darkness and empty air.

The voice gave a soft laugh. _You can search for me, but it will prove difficult, as I am housed within your being._

He staggered back and fell against the tree, having lost his footing after the small fright the voice in his mind had given him. The roughness of the bark as it scraped his back drew an audible wince, and his breath fogged before him.

_Careful now, my child, the voice crooned. Your legs have little strength as of yet. Even with my help, walking here from the dark world on them proved difficult…_

The boy’s understanding of the words spoken by the presence within him was vague at best. The presence communicated with images, feelings… fragments of the boy’s own memory. The feeling of companionship, a consciousness separate from his own, was comforting, and he clung to it as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Everything was unfamiliar. The musty scent of decaying foliage on the forest floor, the chill of the early autumn air, the sound of the wind through the trees.

He had no memory before he had awakened. Everything in his mind was black and empty, everything but the voice that was not his own. Looking down at himself, the boy felt an odd sense of detachment as he examined his own body, turning his hands over, clenching them in fists. He wore a loose tunic and trousers, made of earthen-colored canvas. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness beyond him, and he shuddered again at the cold that surrounded him.

 _My name is Lucifurius,_ the voice said carefully, making sure the boy understood. _I have no body of my own, so I entrust myself to you to carry me. In turn, I hope you will entrust yourself to me… So that I may guide us both on a path of success._

This voice was his only companion, the only thing there to offer him any guidance. He embraced it without reservation, feeling safe within its gentle grasp on his thoughts.

The boy moved forward slowly, watching his own feet. He was barefoot, and his steps were shaky and hesitant as he moved cautiously across the ground that pricked at the delicate soles of his feet.

 _Before I found you, you had never moved, your whole life has been spent in slumber,_ Lucifurius explained, with a hint of understanding patience. _You will find it difficult at first, but I will assist you in becoming stronger. Now, we need sustenance. There is a human settlement close. I will lead you there, and then, we hunt._

Hunger. Drained and in need of energy. He associated the feeling with the hunt the voice spoke of.

_You learn most quickly, my child._

The detritus of the forest floor crackled beneath the boy’s feet. He looked past the trees down the mountain to the faint lights of the village below, drawn to the newness of the sight, quickly forgetting the things that laid behind him. He climbed over the obstacles in his path, carefully balancing himself as he made his way down the steep mountain. His hair fluttered around his face in the wind.

Something cold dropped on his face from above, and he looked up at the dark expanse of the sky above him, flinching as a drop of rain fell into his open eye. He rubbed at his face in his alarm, wavering unsteadily where he stood.

 _You are alright. Merely a drop of water, certainly no match for such a powerful force as we are,_ Lucifurius said with a dash of amusement. The boy felt calmed by his voice and the feeling of safety that enveloped him as he heard it.

He continued on forward through the thick forests, watching the lights in the distance shimmer and twinkle in the dark. His curiosity slowly turned inward, and within his mind he reached for Lucifurius. Like a newborn child, puzzled and inquisitive.

Lucifurius seemed to sense his wordless questions, and proceeded to offer explanation. _I am the ruler of a world beyond the one in which we stand now. You are my vessel… and my child. Together we will gain strength, and return to our home when I have amassed the power to create for myself a physical form._

The boy felt his understanding growing, and the meaning of the words more clear as time passed. There was much more he wished to learn, he was hungry for more knowledge.

He stumbled and fell, crying out, the sharpness of his own voice startling him. Pain flared from his knee and he rolled over to find a shallow gash, a steady trickle of blood flowing from it. He watched the trickle uneasily for a moment until the pain faded and the flow came to a steady stop, his chest stinging with cold air as he drew sharp breaths.

_I will help you to heal your wounds. It is essential that this body be protected… It houses the both of us, after all._

The boy slowly pushed himself up to his feet, trying to remain steady. The shallow gash seemed to be fading entirely. The pain had stopped.

His body gained strength as he continued his path down the mountain. The first few hours of his trek had been spent tripping, stumbling, struggling to remain on his feet. But in time he walked with a steady, even gait. Though his bare feet had taken a beating, scraped up by the rough ground beneath him, they had begun to toughen, and he had learned to tread more carefully.

_There are humans near to us, in the settlement ahead. You are not one of them, no… But you appear as one, which will allow you to move among them more freely. Still, child, you must be careful._

The boy silently accepted the instruction, continuing along in the direction Lucifurius had sent him. By this point, his need for nourishment had grown to an uncomfortable level, and though he was strong enough to walk, his body ached with fatigue and famine.

When he got close enough to the village walls, he slowed to a stop and hid himself in the edge of the brush, observing carefully. He could see that there were humans moving around within. There were all sorts, some as small as himself, darting around the streets, shrieking with laughter. The elder and larger among them yelling in sharp voices for them to hush. A few carried strange tools, food, and firewood, weaving in and out of the rows of small huts they resided in.

_They are preparing for the approaching winter. Humans are beholden to the whims of nature, but we will not face such hindrances._

The boy was aware of a strange essence lingering in the air around him, similar to the presence of Lucifurius within his mind, but much weaker.

_Life. This is the force you feel around you._

The boy carefully crawled closer to watch the humans move, awaiting more explanation from Lucifurius.

_You are slowly growing strong, but your body is not invincible, as you have seen… And I can heal you only so much before the wounds become too grievous for us both. You require some form of protection. A weapon will provide you a means to defend yourself as well. There is a place to obtain both. Enter the building on the wall, and I will help you to take what you need._

It was as if some force moved his eyes to the direction he had been instructed to go, and the boy made his way through the gate and along the edge of the wall to a humble stone structure with smoke rising from the chimney. He opened the door slowly, the old wooden floor creaking as he stepped in. A fire burned bright in the hearth, casting a warm light through the room, and he looked in awe at the collection of weapons before him. Blades of varying length, fashioned of glinting steel. He ran his fingers over the cold metal, enjoying the smoothness beneath his fingertips.

He settled on the sword that shone brightest in the firelight and lifted the blade from its mounts. Taken by surprise by its weight, he let it fall, the tip sinking into the wood of the floor.

“Careful, there, boy,” a low voice rumbled behind him. “Those there are sharp.”

The boy gasped and whirled around to face the source of the voice, finding himself facing a man. His heavy boots clomped noisily across the hollow floor as he approached. He was large, well-muscled, nearly twice the boy's size.

“Looking for a weapon, boy? That one looks a bit big for you, and it isn't cheap either. I doubt you could pay for it, from the look of you. I could help you find something better suited to you.”

The boy looked at the man, hearing his words but unable to form his own in response.  After a long moment of silence, confusion overtook the man's expression.

“Can't speak, can you? Well, let's put that blade back and we'll find you another. Plain to see you’ll have trouble lifting it, much less wielding it.”

The child felt Lucifurius’ presence clutch around him protectively. _Pay no heed to this man. He does not know your strength. If this is the blade you wish for, my child, then this is the blade you shall have. I will help you to carry it._

A surge of strength coursed through the boy’s body, and he found himself lifting the sword with surprising ease. The movement felt odd and unnatural as Lucifurius guided his body into position from within, pointing the end of the blade at the man’s head.

Realizing his mistake, the man backed away slowly, eyes widening.

“C-careful with that, boy. If you really want it, then fine, I'll sell it to you. But – let's be reasonable, it's expensive. I can't sell it to you for anything less than full price.”

_Now, I will teach you how to hunt, my son. This one will be our first prey._

The boy took another step forward as Lucifurius urged him on, and the look in the man's eyes became more fearful as he was backed against the wall.

“I'll give you another one. Don't fool around like this. Put it down.”

The boy studied the man curiously, finding it difficult to comprehend this display of emotion. His hands were raised, fingers splayed slightly, his posture tense. It made the boy uncomfortable, and he drew back slightly.

_Go on, now. Use the weapon…_

“Stay back!” the man cried, grabbing another sword from the wall and swinging in the boy’s direction.

The boy felt Lucifurius deftly move his arms into position to parry the incoming strike. The man staggered back – Lucifurius was quick to see the moment of weakness.

_Now, boy! Strike!_

With all the force he could muster, the boy followed his instinct and brought the sword down in a strong arc into the man's neck. The blade tore diagonally down through his chest, rending through flesh and bone with a wet crunching sound. Blood sprayed from the wound, and a bewildered look crossed the man's eyes before he collapsed. A weak groan escaped him, but quickly faded to a muffled gurgling of blood as the life left him.

A swell of pride from Lucifurius. _Well done! You will be a force to be feared, indeed._

The boy stared down at the pool of blood as it seeped across the floor, soaking into the old wood. He felt uneasy… But before he could reach out to Lucifurius for guidance, a wave of power overtook him. It was dizzying… euphoric. His body was poised with alien strength.

The wave of raw energy faded after a moment, but the emptiness of starvation was filled. The exhaustion and weakness that had plagued him was gone.

_The force of life sustains us. We must harvest it from other sources… adding it to our own power. In time, once we have gathered enough, I will be able to create a body for myself._

_This is the power we seek. And that was only one weakling, my child._

Only one... it was only one! If just one held this much strength, this much substance... What would more be?

_What would this whole village be...?_

That thought was staggering. The thought that so much power existed, his for the taking, was almost incomprehensible.

_But before you move on, that wall behind you... On that wall is armor. It will protect you from injuries you cannot sustain._

He stepped over the corpse of the man, examining the armor and clothing that hung on the wall. Lucifurius urged him away from a bulkier suit of shining plate, from a leather coat with a woolen lining – Too heavy, you will lose all ability to move quickly… Too light, and you are vulnerable. You will need shoes as well.

Lucifurius guided him to a rack of boots in the corner, told him how to wind the cloth wraps around his feet before he slipped them on. He laced up the boots, his fingers clumsy, and stood, feeling awkward, separated from the ground by the thick sole of the shoe. He took a few careful steps around the room, noting that his footsteps now made sound on the hollow wood floor, where before his movements had been all but silent.

He looked over the armor on the walls, selecting pieces Lucifurius guided him to. Between leather and metal plate, his selections would keep him well protected. The boy encountered some difficulty, wrestling with the leather straps that fastened each piece until the armor was securely in place.

It was then that his attention was drawn to an odd sight on the wall – the skull of a beast.

_A symbol of death. This suits us._

Attached to the skull were short antlers – they clearly did not belong to whatever manner of beast this has been in life, and made its appearance unsettling.

The boy took the skull from where it was mounted on the wall and turned it around in his grasp, curiously examining it before placing it over his head. It had been carved and fashioned to be worn as a mask.

_A perfect visage for us to don._

Pleased with Lucifurius’ approval, the boy found he liked the mask, and the way it veiled his face from view. Hidden in its shadow, he was less exposed.

He stepped out of the shop, feeling more comfortable moving across the cold ground now that his feet were protected. He held the bloodied sword at his side and rounded the side of the building. The humans in the distance did not look his way, and he watched them curiously for a moment.

The boy jumped, startled, instinctively raising the sword to defend himself, as a young man approached the doorway. He carried a bucket of water, and slowed to a cautious stop as he looked over the boy standing there, bloody sword in hand.

As the man seemed to realize what had just transpired in the smithy, he dropped the bucket and reached for a hatchet on his belt. The boy watched with detached curiosity as he lunged forward, and Lucifurius jolted him to action once more, bringing him to parry as he had before.

_Kill him._

The young man was much smaller than the man inside had been, closer to the boy's own size, and the boy overtook him easily, pushing back against him and knocking the hatchet from his hands with an upward sweep of the sword. His movements were clumsy, but Lucifurius was able to augment his strength enough, just for the moment, that a second sweep of the sword removed the top half of the man's head. The boy stepped back as the corpse fell forward, soaking the ground in blood.

He was again staggered by the rush that followed. The surge of strength from the first kill had been nearly overwhelming, and this one left him momentarily paralyzed, unsure of how to process the raw energy that followed. It seemed entirely too much.

_This will not sate us long. We need more._

He moved forward to the village itself. Sounds echoed across the streets – footsteps, voices. The cobbled stones he moved across felt strange beneath his feet, too hard and too smooth.

Ahead of him, a group of humans was moving down the other side of the street, coming toward him. He could sense their life force through Lucifurius – weaker than the two he'd just killed, but Lucifurius urged him to confront them just the same.

They took note of him and slowed to a stop. The man held out a hand to signal to the woman and two children that trailed him to wait, and he cautiously approached the boy. The boy waited patiently as the man, weathered-looking but tall and strong, approached him. There was no hostility in his expression yet, but he seemed suspicious.

“I haven't seen you here before, sir.” The boy took a single step back, fighting between instincts that urged him to flee and his desire for more of the power this prey had to offer. “Who are you?”

The boy looked him up and down, and stepped back again.

“Can you not speak? Is something wrong--?”

The boy ran him through with the sword, then, planted a foot in the man's gut, and pushed him off the end of his blade. He fell to the ground, features frozen in bewilderment.

As the rush of life force emboldened the boy, Lucifurius urged him in the direction of the woman, still standing frozen in fear at the other side of the street. She tried to move to defend herself, but the boy cut her down easily, slashing her arms out of the way before thrusting the blade through her throat.

The two children looked on in wide-eyed, unmoving horror as he stared them down. They whimpered.

He recoiled – there was some odd familiarity in the sound, the smell of blood… Their fear seeped its way into him. Slowly, he began to realize that he was the cause of this fear.

The children bolted, wailing in terror, before he could pursue them.

Every nerve in his body was buzzing and alive, and he felt breathless and overstimulated. He studied the blood flecked across his gauntlets, watching it drip onto the cobbles beneath his feet.

_You do well, but we will need far more than that._

The boy heard more humans nearing him, and he started, his body tense with fear. He turned and rushed for the gate, where he’d entered. His movements were clumsy and awkward, restricted by the newness of his armor and the unfamiliar strength that surged through him.

He could hear the humans close behind him in pursuit, and he moved more swiftly, dashing through the village gate and out into the forests, weaving through the trees, his heavy boots crunching on the ruins of the forest floor.

Fatigue had begun to slow his movements by the time the boy stopped to rest beneath the canopy of trees.  He panted, peering through his mask of bone as he looked back over his shoulder, listening carefully for signs of his pursuers.

Their voices were sharp, but distant. With mild relief, he moved deeper into the safety of the darkness.

_They will not follow you this far, my child. They fear what lurks in the dark more than they fear you._

The boy looked over himself as he finally stopped, leaning against a tree. Blood covered everything. The shining steel blade of the sword he had taken was splattered crimson up to the hilt. Rivulets of it dripped over the surface of the armor he wore, soaked his underclothes at the armor's open joints. The smell and warmth of it made him uneasy.

Lucifurius took great pleasure in these sensations, and the child found himself pulled into the warmth of the praise and joviality that Lucifurius showered upon him.

_My pride for you, my child, knows no bounds. I have decided I must bestow you with a designation… a name. The world must have something to call you by as they cower at your feet._

_Your name will be Albtraum._

The boy’s heart fluttered in an abundance of joy at the name. The feeling of his own existence, his identity, had begun to solidify. He was eager to engage his next foe, eager to please his caretaker.

_It is a word used by some humans to name the dreams that make them fear sleep… Dreams of the dark, dreams of the monsters within it. Together we are the essence of the dark, the embodiment of fear itself. Humans have known such fear before only in the darkness of their most sinister dreams, but this time there will be no awakening. Nowhere the dark will not reach. And so, there is truly no name better._

_Albtraum... The nightmare from which there is no awakening and no escape._


	3. Chapter II

_The dark was stifling as Septimus waited on the Rift. It was little more than set of stairs around a pit in the temple floor that led down into seeming nothingness, and only a few of the Order's scholars knew of its existence. The temple had been built to contain and protect it, but the scholars were to remain in the rooms above ground and never descend to the lower levels, they had been told by the elders._

_Septimus found himself wondering why they had bothered to build a corridor leading to it if it was truly meant to be locked away and forgotten about._

_There was an odd sense of decadence about the air around the place – the air was cold, but thick and hazy, the darkness too drunk on its own overflowing. Something about the lingering haze in the room seemed conscious, and Septimus knew this could only be the presence of the ruler of the dark._

_A soul this far-reaching was unnatural, a sign of deep corruption and instability. This was an opportunistic venture on his part, he knew, but if he could take something as disastrous as this and turn it into something good, then it would be of far more benefit than hiding the withering god’s rot away as if that would make it disappear._

I should think that your superiors would be displeased to know that you have approached the Rift without their permission.

_Septimus was not quite as startled as perhaps he should have been that something in the darkness had spoken. He did not hear the voice - rather, it was as though it spoke directly inside his mind._

_“I see this as better than leaving it untouched and not utilized.”_

Your want for knowledge is so apparent it precedes you like a stench, human.

_Septimus was taken aback, but again stepped closer. “I don't suppose you can blame me, not when I've been in such close proximity to it for so long and never been allowed to see any of it for myself.”_

_The voice almost seemed to laugh._ You think your frail mind can contain such vast reserves of knowledge?

_“I believe that it can.”_

Then you will be my vessel. I will not give freely, no, but I will reward you for cooperation with my will.

_Septimus stepped down into the darkness. It enveloped him like water, freezing and boiling at once, sending his skin prickling with goosebumps, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. His footing beneath him felt uneven, as though standing on rippling waves._

_The feeling of burning cold seeped into him, sending an ache that reached all the way through to his bones. His senses dulled, his sight growing hazy and the sound of his own breathing quieting to a distant hush._

_And then the essence of the dark overtook him._

_No longer did the voice speak into his mind, it now seemed to be completely a part of it, holding his mind in a vice grip. Unfamiliar memories flashed through his mind, sights he’d never seen and moments he’d never lived burrowing their way into the gaps of his own thoughts. It was a terrifying presence, powerful enough to make him feel like an intruder in his own body and mind. Septimus blinked, his body trembling from the chill of the room around him. He hauled himself from the pit of darkness and collapsed onto the stone floor, feeling battered and exhausted._

Until I have a physical form of my own, you will carry me through the world. You will kill anyone who stands in our way, that I might gather enough strength to create a body for myself.

_Septimus heaved up from the floor and staggered his way back up to his quarters, not wanting to be caught in the base level of the temple. He had known his quest for knowledge would come at a price, but he had not anticipated his benefactor being so bloodthirsty._

_Still, he thought, he could choose his sacrifices carefully, and surely the lives of a few who perhaps deserved death was a small price to pay for the things he could do, for his own Order and those beyond it, when he knew and understood more._

_He repeated this to himself over and over that night, and for many nights on into the years to come._

* * *

Albtraum travelled slowly as days passed, reaching the foot of the mountains and lingering in the quiet safety of the forests there.

He was huddled under a rocky outcropping as storm clouds rolled in, finding himself too exhausted to sleep. There was a chill to the air, but it was somewhat warmer where it was dry. His hands wandered over the smooth stone behind him, and he dug the toes of his boots into the soft earth beneath him.

As the rain began to fall more heavily, he removed his mask, setting it aside, and curled in on himself to lay down in the small indent in the earth he’d sat in. He looked up at the grey skies above, watching curiously as the clouds rolled and swirled into themselves, glimpses of sunlight shining through as they did. The ground was high enough here that the rain did not seep into the outcropping, and he watched with sleepy interest as small streams of rainwater formed around him, running over the ground and pooling in the dips and indents at it streamed down the face of the mountain.

Even with Lucifurius’ guidance, Albtraum still found the world was vast and overwhelming, and for the time, he was happy to huddle beneath the rocks as the gentle storm poured over the woods.

_I suppose it is time I taught you more of our purpose, my child._

Intrigued, Albtraum fidgeted with his mask as he waited somewhat impatiently for Lucifurius to go on. Lucifurius’ lessons were a point of great interest for him, and he craved more information about the world and his place in it.

_So eager for knowledge… Strange, my child, but you sometimes call to me the memory of someone I knew long ago. The first body to host me._

_Ah, but that is a story for another time._

_You know that we must hunt to gain power, and that we are not of this world. We will return home someday, when I have gathered power enough to take physical form. I will reassert my place as the ruler of our world._

Albtraum hadn’t known that Lucifurius held such status, but it did not surprise him. He was so awed by Lucifurius’ majesty, it seemed only natural that he should hold a position of great importance.

But the thought that Lucifurius may one day have a body of his own… What would become of Albtraum then? He could not imagine existing separately from Lucifurius, and the thought frightened him.

_Fear not, child. Though I will one day take form in this world on my own, you may always remain at my side. I have kept many hosts over my many centuries… but none have served me as well as you have._

_Men’s hearts are tainted by their own desires -_ _justice, vengeance, power, curiosity._

_Power-hungry warlords leading charges into battle, invigorated by the strength I offered them. Pious men who thought they might be able to master me and use me for their own purposes. Men who sought the allure of forbidden knowledge._

_I find human desires so tiresome and trivial… They have only served to slow my progress. Many hundreds of years have proved that humans will always be the same, even as the world changes and grows around them. The power hungry eventually grow fat and lazy. The pious are quick to abandon their faith and give in to despair. Those who lust after knowledge soon learn that their minds are not fit to hold it._

_No… A child of my own was the only host who could have ever served me properly._

Albtraum felt great pride in knowing that he was of Lucifurius’ bloodline. Serving Lucifurius gave him purpose in a world where otherwise there was none.

He sat in silence for quite some time, listening carefully to the sounds around him. His mind wandered as he waited for Lucifurius to go on, lingering over his curiosity for the other world they had come from. Try as he might, his memories did not reach that place… and so, he reached out to Lucifurius for answers, though his own questions were nebulous and ill-formed.

_I am the progenitor of our kind, the daemons._

_Ours is a noble blood, and I have spread my seed amongst the humans so that I might have more children… And humans, in their insolence, discard my children as though they were nothing but rubbish. From the time a daemon is born, the thing he has most to fear is the mother whose womb he was birthed from._

_To carry a child of mine is a great honor, but they spit upon it. It hurts me so, my child… There are so few of you, but there could be many more._

Faint images passed through Albtraum’s thoughts - of squalling infants with bony nubs on their skulls, of screaming women snuffing the lives of their newborns.

He was drawn into the well of deep sorrow that rose up from Lucifurius, bewildered as to how violent and cold this world now seemed.

 _Those they do not kill are mutilated, formed to the image of the humans themselves…_ Visions of older children, with longer horns, crying out for mercy as the pieces of them that marked their daemon heritage were sawed from their heads.

_Such was done to you, dear child… Your mother took away your beautiful horns._

Albtraum’s hand wandered, as if guided, to his scalp – where he could feel the hard protrusions of his severed horns, just as Lucifurius had described. Three on each side. His scalp had long since healed over them, but they were there.

Astonishment shot through him, and hurt and anguish tightened his chest. From what Lucifurius had taught him, humans were obviously beneath them, but he had never thought that they had been responsible for such horrors.

_That is why we must hunt, my child. We must see that these humans are punished for scorning and murdering the sons and daughters I have gifted them with. Your brothers, your sisters… and you._

_We must see that justice is done._

Albtraum tugged his cloak tight around his body, and shivered at the chill of the air. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, and his breaths became quick and strained.

_Do not despair, dear child.  I will remain with you until every last one of them kneels before us. My children will know peace again._

* * *

 

A month passed.

Albtraum walked, guided by the call of human souls, killing them as they crossed his path with Lucifurius’ careful guidance. Though still inexperienced, his comprehension of the world was increasing, helped along by Lucifurius steadily teaching him more every day.

Lucifurius taught Albtraum about the ways of humans, so that they might better hunt them. He augmented the boy’s strength, enabling him to stand against any foe they may face. He whispered praise and instruction, and the bond between the two of them grew strong.

Albtraum observed, he listened to the voice that guided him, he learned. He learned the laws of the world, he learned to read the written word, he learned to interpret the behaviors of humans. Even so, he remained only a transient wanderer in their world, knowing that his home was waiting in another. One day, when the time was right, he would return there.

As Lucifurius had taught him more about the humans and their world, he had come to look on them with hatred and disdain, the images of the slaughter of his kind always burning behind his eyes. The peace of his kin depended on the ashes in his wake.

He traveled slowly onward, and as he did, rumors traveled ahead of him. Superstitious mutterings of a daemon beast who slaughtered entire villages without mercy gradually became widespread – in some villages, inhabitants found themselves afraid to even step outside the safety of their homes.

As he trudged on through the forests, his path faintly illuminated by the weak light of the rising sun, he could feel it - though it was miles away, he could sense a mass of human souls, the strongest he had ever encountered. He had followed the call well. He wrapped his tattered cloak more tightly around his shoulders as he exited the thick of the woods and entered a clearing. A soft rain was falling, casting a haze over the sights in the distance.

This was to be their next hunting ground, their next harvest of power. Albtraum had come to enjoy hunting – at first, he had found himself unsettled by the terror with which his prey reacted to him, but over time, Lucifurius’ praise and affection, as well as his hatred for their enemies, had become a strong motivator.

Warriors were the strongest humans of all, and the only humans Albtraum now sought out. Unskilled humans posed no challenge, no threat, and Albtraum tended to avoid them. Though Lucifurius was perplexed by this aversion, he did not oppose it – after all, warriors held a much more enticing strength.

_We have never encountered humans in these numbers before. Though your strength far surpasses that of any individual, they vastly outnumber you. It poses a threat... Take care you are not caught off guard._

Albtraum eventually came to the edge of the cliffs and looked out over the place of this human gathering. They were all clad in armor, armed with fine weapons and marching across the field at one another. Watching them all move around in the valley before him made Albtraum anxious to rush into the fray. Where to start? Which one to kill first? But there were so many, and Lucifurius had just warned him that they were quite capable of causing him injury if they wished it.

Albtraum quietly made his way down into the valley, careful to keep himself hidden in the shadows. He watched the clashing groups of humans before him, the cacophony of battle sending a flutter of excitement through his chest.

A smaller group of warriors moved about on the outskirts. Five, perhaps six. He would start with them.

Albtraum closed in on them quickly, as they had stopped to rest. He hid in the thin border of trees at the foot of the cliffs, where he would not be seen, and waited for an opportunity to strike.

One man constantly glanced into the shadows, no doubt trying to source the faint sounds he had heard when Albtraum approached. As the young warrior gathered the attention of his comrades, Albtraum dared not breathe. Any movement would attract attention to his position.

After a few moments, the humans had written off the young man’s concerns, and they all turned their attention back to the battle before them.

Albtraum rushed forward.

He drew the sword at his belt and ran through the man closest to him, thrusting it through his back. As the man fell forward, grasping at the blade that stuck out from between his ribs, the rest of the men took notice and quickly turned to face Albtraum, bewildered.

As Albtraum pulled his blade from the man he’d attacked, another human ran at him with a hatchet, catching him across the arm. Albtraum yelped and drew back as blood flowed from the wound and the sharp chill of the air stung the edges of the wound.

Albtraum returned the injury by slashing across the man’s chest as the small group of humans erupted into shouts, charging at him. He ducked and weaved to avoid them. They were armed only with rudimentary weapons, a far cry from the men on the battlefield. Perhaps they had not been a part of the battle after all.

He felt Lucifurius take control as he hesitated, his body moving effortlessly outside his control. Albtraum watched as his body moved to fell the rest of the men, easily avoiding their attacks and returning them.

A cry of outrage from another one of the young men. "You son of a _bitch_ , you killed my brother! I'll rip you to shreds!"

The man picked up the dagger that had moments earlier been in the hands of his now-dead brother and charged, swinging the blade out ahead of him. Albtraum caught it in a parry, broke the hold their weapons had established on each other, and thrust the sword forward, through the boy's chest. He slammed a booted foot into his stomach and ripped the sword away. More blood soaked the damp earth.

He cut them down to the last man, who charged Albtraum with blade drawn and eyes blazing.

"N-no... My sons, y-you killed them... You killed them! You bastard, you murderer! _Who the hell are you?_ "

Albtraum stepped forward, flammeous eyes glinting from beneath the shadow of his bone mask.

"I am... That which will remind you humans why you fear the dark."

He had not meant to speak, Lucifurius had spoken through him. It was the first time he had heard his own voice. He liked the way it sounded. His own voice...

"Fear, why is there anything to fear now? My sons are dead, you've taken everything from me! _I'll kill you!_ "

The man snatched up a hatchet and lunged, but Albtraum managed to lean out of the way and slashed across the man's throat, leaving him gurgling on his own blood as the life left him.

“Thomas… run…” the man groaned as the last breath escaped him.

A whimper sounded from the bushes, and Albtraum turned in place quickly to place the source – a boy crouched near the bushes, eyes wide with fear, a small hunting knife clutched in his hand. He was a good deal younger than Albtraum himself, clearly not an experienced warrior by any measure.

Albtraum approached the child, weapon raised. He seldom encountered children – they were the first to flee. He had never hunted them down, as they offered little strength.

But this boy had not fled. From the knife clutched in his hand, it seemed he was intent on fighting. He had made his choice. He would die here.

Albtraum readied his blade to cut the boy down.

But hesitation stopped his sword arm as the boy looked up at him, terror twisting his expression. The same terror daemon children must have felt as they died at the hands of their own mothers…

He lowered his blade. His kind was above such barbarism. This boy would be a reminder of that.

Albtraum knelt down to eye level with the boy, peering through the eye sockets of his mask of bone. “You will run from this place,” he whispered, slow and deliberate as he struggled to form spoken words on his own. “You will tell your kind that their transgressions against the children of the dark will not go unpunished. You will live knowing that the only reason is because we allow it.”

Albtraum stood again, taking a single step back. The boy stared back at him, shuddering with fear, before stumbling to his feet and bolting into the woods behind him.

Silence, once more.

And then the far-off sounds of combat faded back into his focus. Albtraum examined the remains of the battle around him, but his attention was soon drawn to the battlefield. There was great power laying in wait. He could feel it in the very air.

_Yes, good. More. We need more…_

* * *

As the armies were enraptured in battling one another, they did not immediately take notice of the vagabond killer. But word slowly began to spread among the soldiers as Albtraum struck and disappeared again and again.

"Sir, I've brought a report," a young soldier stated nervously to his commanding officer as he skittishly rushed into the man's tent.

"Well, what is it, boy? Don't stand there looking like you're facing down death. Speak!" the commander ordered.

"Our attack on the enemy is all but over," the soldier stated, composing himself. "Lord d'Auvergne's forces are severely weakened and are proving to be no trouble to eliminate."

The commander gave a hearty laugh. "Then why, pray tell, did you come in here white as a sheet? I understand I can be a frightening man when I so choose, Bleiys, but that is no reason to act as though I am the Devil himself-"

"Sir..." The boy interrupted with a frown. "Some of the men on the battlefield have reported seeing the daemon that is rumored to be slaughtering masses, on both sides of the field. Apparently he is responsible for a great many seemingly inexplicable deaths behind the lines of the battle.”

The commander went silent.

He was not a superstitious man, and when the stories of the uncannily strong daemon knight who razed whole villages and slaughtered any who crossed his path had first reached him, he had dismissed it as no more than a fairytale told by bored soldiers as they sat around their campfires.

The commander stood, shaking his head, and stepped forward to give the young man an encouraging clap on the back. "My boy, frightened soldiers will believe almost anything they think they have seen. I have heard quite a few ridiculous stories in my day. I get the feeling that this is no exception. Now, if you would, head back and tell the men that it is most likely an enemy mercenary and they should continue on with the fight as planned, remaining vigilant. Do not allow the enemy to unsettle our victory with fear.”

The soldier hesitantly nodded and exited the tent to carry out his orders.

The old commander shook his head once more and left the tent himself for a breath of fresh air.

The rain was still falling, and it made the battlefield seem oddly serene. The sounds of battle were muffled, seeming far off... He watched as the armies advanced further, and a triumphant smile came across his face. Here was one more victory he would add to a long list of them since the day he had first taken the position of commander. The scent of the rain on the air was crisp and clean, as if to signal that this was a new and better start for this kingdom.

Then, he smelled something else, and a cold feeling of dread flooded his veins.

Blood. And the rank, musty scent of death.

He turned slowly to try and place its source, and came face-to-face with a young man wielding a battered, bloodstained blade. His clothes were ragged and stained with blood. A mask fashioned of the skull of a wolf and antlers of a stag shadowed his face, hiding all but a tangled mess of crimson hair and the daemon’s glowing orange eyes, piercing through the mask's shadow like firelight.

Eyes that burned with a sort of malevolent longing.

Hunger.

The second his mind had begun to work again, the old man quickly drew the blade at his belt - he was an expert at combat, few had ever beaten him - and made a slash for the daemon's head, which he ducked to avoid. The daemon rose to his feet again and slashed at the man's legs, succeeding in taking one off just below the knee. The man let out a cry of pain and fell forward, catching himself before he hit the ground. The sword was still gripped in his hand, and he tried to use it to push himself back up as he watched the monster that was slowly closing in on him.

The tip of the sword met the underside of his chin, lifting his head so that he was forced to look into his opponent's eyes.

"You have a strong essence, human..."

"What?" Even here, with a leg missing and death clearly looming ahead, the man managed an annoyed tone. "Who are you? What are you doing, wandering around here?"

"I am the servant of he who rules the dark. It is my duty to reap the essence of your lives so that he may manifest in his true form.”

The commander only stared. What was he speaking of? Ruler? True form?

"If there is any god you feel has not forsaken you... I suggest you pray."

These words had scarcely reached the man's ears when the blade met where his neck connected with his shoulder and sliced diagonally downward, splitting his body in half with an uncanny strength.

The man’s last vision was of blood, his blood, running from the blade to the ground, as the boy turned his back on him.

_Our time draws ever closer, my child._

_Soon only we shall remain._


	4. Chapter III

Albtraum’s infamy grew as months became years. He had ascended to legend – soldiers muttered tales of his rampages, parents used accounts of the wild daemon to frighten children into behaving. Lucifurius guided Albtraum cautiously, taking care to ensure that they left just enough rumors to sow fear, but not so many that they would be tracked and hunted down by overzealous vigilantes.

Albtraum grew tall, but remained narrow-framed and thin, his lithe build belying the inhuman strength Lucifurius channeled through him. He picked up weapons and armor, spoils from the battles he fought, producing a strangely mismatched conglomerate of different pieces. Only his mask of bone remained, a lingering symbol of the terror left in his wake. He went through blades quickly, he scavenged other weapons, he learned to use what was available to him.

Albtraum and Lucifurius had learned to work together so seamlessly that at times they seemed to be one being. Albtraum’s mind had been tempered with Lucifurius’ ire toward humanity. They were united in their solitude.

They were between hunts today, moving through the mountains. Albtraum trudged through persistent, drizzling rain, little specks of rust flaking off his armor as he moved. Both his hodgepodge armor and his old sword were worn-down and rusting, and he was wrapped in thick, tattered cloaks. It made his appearance somehow more fearsome, as though he were an ancient monstrosity, ages older than he really was, and he delighted at the thought of how he must have appeared to his foes.

His trek this day had been uneventful thus far. He reached for Lucifurius in his mind, as a child reaching to a parent for attention. Lucifurius obliged, and Albtraum was happy to receive his affections.

_Let me tell you more of our home._

_I was a proud god once. I created our world... A small, dark thing, but mine all the same. I created things from the dark to inhabit it, my servants of shadowdust and moonlight, beasts of the earth and the skies. But my children were the most precious to me._

_There are so few of you left…_

As Albtraum recalled their discussion long ago about the other daemons, Lucifurius was jarred from his reverie, alerting Albtraum to the presence of a follower.

_It would seem we are not alone, child._

Albtraum slowed his pace and looked around carefully, focusing his senses to attempt to pick up on signs of his pursuer. The rain made this difficult, drowning out any sounds and limiting his vision to a short distance ahead.

He could sense the presence of the one following him before he heard the footsteps. This was a strong one.

 _You will have to fight carefully,_ Lucifurius warned, and Albtraum was baffled at the somewhat uneasy tone he spoke with. _This one seems… unusually powerful._

As the human trailing him neared, he slowed to a stop and turned around. It was a young woman, wearing a heavy black overcoat that was hemmed with fine embellishments, and a cloak to shield her from the rain – dressed well for a hunter.  She was tall, and her stocky build was apparent even under her coat.

Albtraum tensed, a hand resting on the hilt of the sword at this belt. Lucifurius’ uneasiness had invoked some apprehension in him, and he was the slightest bit hesitant to fight the woman. He was strong, and he was confident, but he was not a fool. He had exercised caution in battles before, but for Lucifurius to have expressed doubts... Albtraum knew he was potentially outmatched.

The woman chuckled as she neared him, staring him down as she readied her weapon, a bladed staff. A shock of short vermillion hair fell into her violet eyes. “Finally caught you up, devil. You must be the one they've been talking about… You've been making your way across as many towns and villages as you can, killing anyone in your path. I'd be remiss if I didn't put a stop to that.”

Albtraum scoffed. “You are not the first headhunter to challenge me, nor will you be the first to fall to me.”

“We’ll see.”

She dashed forward and thrust the staff blade forward, and Albtraum drew his weapon and deflected her attack. Ducking to the side, he slashed at the woman's legs, but she leapt out of the way and countered with a jab at Albtraum’s neck, which he only barely managed to avoid.

They both stepped back, circling each other, each contemplating their next attack. Albtraum moved first this time, hefting the sword over his shoulder and bringing it down towards the woman's head. She parried the strike with the handle of the staff, knocking him off balance, and caught Albtraum across the throat with the handle of the staff.

He coughed and wheezed. She had winded him, and he had to dart to the side to avoid being run through when she lunged again. The blade of the staff caught his side, leaving a shallow wound.

The woman was quick, light on her feet, and she was proving difficult to kill.

Clenching his jaw, Albtraum lunged to the side and made a stab at the woman's torso. Leaning away with almost ridiculous ease, she drew a knife and hurled it at Albtraum's head, aiming for the open area of the helmet's visor. He moved to avoid it and it glanced off his shoulder guard.

To Albtraum it seemed a foolish move until he realized its purpose – to distract him, so that the woman could attack again from the side, this time hitting his leg, slashing into the side of his knee left unprotected by the joint of the armor.

Albtraum managed to move back before the strike damaged his ability to move, and the woman breathed a curse.

_This is proving to be a bothersome foe…_

Albtraum growled as he backed away from her, his shallow wounds stinging. The woman opposed Albtraum's own combat ability in every way, though she was not exceptionally skilled. She had agility and speed where Albtraum moved slowly. Finesse where Albtraum lacked it. A strategy, where Albtraum had only the plan to kill and kill again.

Still, nothing about her seemed particular extraordinary... which lead Albtraum to wonder what power Lucifurius had sensed in her that had put him so ill at ease.

“You aren't even an interesting opponent, boy!” The woman taunted, tossing her head and readying herself to attack again. “Always the same, you brutish thugs... I'm surprised no one's beaten me to you, especially with how much your head's worth.”

By a sheer stroke of luck, when the woman lunged again, Albtraum managed to run his blade through her gut, at the cost of catching the blade of her staff in his shoulder. The wound was fairly deep, and the pain gave him pause, but it would not hinder the movement of his arm.

Albtraum breathed a sigh of relief, pulling his blade away and stepping back.

But the woman remained standing, and seemed unaffected by the injury, the likes of which Albtraum had come to understand to be fatal to most. The blood flowed freely, and the woman cried out, wrenching the blade out of herself as Albtraum backed away. A surprising reaction, as he’d thought such a wound would cause her a great deal of pain.

And more surprising still, the woman lunged forward again. Albtraum ducked to the side, dropping to one knee and narrowly avoiding catching her blade to his eye.

Dumbfounded, he looked at the woman's abdomen. Any trace of the wound save for the hole in her coat was gone.

She smirked at him as he stared.

Rage from Lucifurius burned at the back of his neck. _This is one who will not die! Child, as this stands, we cannot kill her. She is immortal… You must run._

Albtraum snarled, the sound hurting the tenderness from where he’d been hit in the throat, and rose to his feet again.

_I promise you, my child, when you are a little stronger, we will track down this human again and we will repay her for daring to spill our blood._

He moved slowly, stepping back, his weapon still raised. He did not expect to be allowed to flee easily.

The woman thrust forward at him again, and again he ducked away, his pace quickening as he moved for the cover of the trees. He had never before had to run from a battle, so escape would prove difficult. Minutes dragged on, and eventually he stopped trying to counter the attacks and put all of his focus on parrying and evasion. The woman was too quick, and impervious to injury beyond that, so any attempts to deal damage to her would be in vain. Frustration rose up from the tightness in Albtraum's chest.

The screech of metal on metal, once a thrill that drove him on, had become a grating sound, an annoyance. The fatigue of battle, usually satisfied immediately by the intake of life force from those he had defeated, now weighed heavily on him, a hindrance.

Finally, feigning an attack, he rushed forward, and the woman dodged as expected. Instead of turning to face her after he rushed past, he kept going, running into the cover of the forest. Realizing Albtraum was trying to run, the woman rushed after him.

“And a coward, along with everything else! Surely you can handle one girl after felling entire armies... No? Then you can't possibly be worth enough for me to waste my time killing you. Go on then, run from me!” she called after him, mocking amusement dripping from every word. “And don't think running will save you from anything – _I will kill you if it’s the last thing I do!”_

Albtraum looked over his shoulder and noticed the woman come to an abrupt stop, whirling around on her heel.

His pace slowed to a stop and he watched her carefully. He heard distant voices echoing through the forest, calling after her. A large group of uniformed soldiers was moving toward her. Albtraum ordinarily would have attempted to engage them, but given his current state and the woman’s apparent invincibility, he decided that it would be prudent to flee.

The gash in his shoulder stung as he moved, but he gritted his teeth through the pain. He ducked and wove through the trees, and after a while, glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the woman was no longer chasing after him, and the group that had come after her did not seem to be interested in following him.

When he finally came to a halt, shoulders heaving as he panted heavily, he began to process what has just happened. He rarely had to turn tail and flee a fight, and against a single assailant… It was shameful, to say the least. What was the strange power this woman possessed, which made her immune to death? His own wounds healed quickly with the help of Lucifurius, but Lucifurius had always been very clear that death was a possibility if he sustained too great a wound. The idea of power that exceeded their own disturbed him.

 _This was no fault of yours,_ Lucifurius assured him. _That woman was a wandering immortal. As it stands now, we cannot hope to kill any of them. Just a little longer, my child, a little longer, and you will be strong enough to face them. The more you entrust yourself to me, the stronger you will become._

Feeling unsettled, Albtraum bit down hard on his tongue to draw himself back into reality. He could not allow this to hinder him or set him back, not when there was so much left yet to accomplish.

He and Lucifurius grew ever more starved of energy, increasingly eager to fell the next mass of humans, to move closer to the day when only darkness would remain. One human, even if she had outmatched him, mattered little when there were so many more to be added to his strength.

That was what he would have liked to believe, anyhow.

* * *

Something like a festering illness gripped Albtraum in the days that followed his first real defeat. It was a shame that boiled deep, deep down, a sudden doubt that made him want to bury himself beneath the earth, to fade from being. He was not fit to serve Lucifurius… If he lacked the power to defeat a single foe, how would he carry them to a full conquest? How was he to lead Lucifurius back to his throne, and protect their kind?

He felt frantic to gather more power for their cause, to fell any humans he could. He had never hunted with such fervor before, and this both surprised and delighted Lucifurius.

_Oh, my sweet child, do not let these dregs shame you so. The woman only outmatches us for the moment…This is what all humans are at their core, arrogant, foolish, thinking themselves superior to us... They will always believe it, they will believe it until the moment they lay dying at your feet._

Albtraum clenched his jaw, feeling bones click into place and muscles tighten. His surroundings were a blur as he moved forward, in a state of dazed half-awareness, searching for any hint of life. The forests went by unnoticed, his own footsteps soon followed the cadence of the blood pounding in his ears, and he heard nothing but that steady rhythm.

Then the sound of human voices penetrated the veil. He had entered a human village. A visceral disgust rose in his gut, twisting it in two.

Their very existence was an insult. This, he could not allow.

Albtraum attacked with renewed violence, refueled monstrosity. He left nothing in his path alive. He had to prove himself worthy to Lucifurius, he had to ensure that their path remained open. In mere minutes all that remained of the small vagabond settlement he had happened across was a pile of corpses and smashed pieces of the tents that had been set up there.

_It's the most beautiful thing, isn't it...? Silence... Nothingness. The dark is a beautiful thing._

The slaughter had acted as a sort of catharsis. Calmer, now, Albtraum sheathed his blade in the hilt strapped to his back. He thought of the woman he'd had to run from and felt a twinge of wrath, but quelled it with the resolution that the next time they met, he would possess the strength to properly eliminate her.

Albtraum turned back to the forests. Free of distractions now, he realized that despite the essences he'd consumed, he felt exhausted, as if he'd gained nothing from the hunt. In fact, it felt as though his energy had been drained – he felt heavy, sluggish, and it was difficult to move. The memory of his rage was hazy now that it had faded… Everything within his mind became a cloud of confusion.

It had been a long time since his last successful hunt, longer than he normally allowed. Or perhaps these humans had been too weak. Lucifurius needed more, as always. More and more. Someday, they would be enough.

But as the hours progressed, Albtraum became even weaker than he had been long ago, in the first days of his awakening. As he trudged on, he felt his knees start to buckle, his head begin to swim. He grew so faint that he had to stagger to a stop against a tree to rest, if only for a brief moment. What was the cause of this? Regardless of how long it had been since his last hunt, any ill effects should have faded by now…

_Forgive me, child, but my hunger grows as yours does. I may have taken too much..._

Albtraum had always had the understanding that whatever sustenance he obtained was primarily for Lucifurius, but some of the life force had always been given to him to sustain him. He had never been left this starved.

He felt almost hurt that Lucifurius, who had been his only guide through these first few months of his life, albeit only as a presence within his psyche, had done this to him. It felt faintly like a betrayal, but as he struggled to keep himself conscious, feelings of betrayal lost pertinence.

_I cannot return what I have taken, as it is completely a part of my essence now. Find another gathering of humans... Replenish yourself. You have my apologies._

Slowly, Albtraum pushed away from the tree and moved on. He devoted no more thought to the occurrence and fought now through fatigue rather than fury. He nearly collapsed several times, but prevented himself from falling – he knew if he fell, he would be unable to get back up again. He placed each step carefully, deliberately. He ached of exhaustion.

 _Quickly,_ Lucifurius urged. _If this goes on, you could be in danger of death._

Albtraum hastened as much as he could onward. He had no sense of direction, knowing only that he was moving, until his own rapidly starving essence caught the trail of another. His head snapped up, he saw two young men ahead, dressed in threadbare fabrics and furs, laden with game. Most likely, they were returning from a hunt to the small settlement he had just destroyed.

Shaking, weak, he drew his broadsword and waited for them to approach, partially obscuring himself behind a tree.

As they neared, one of the men slowed, having noticed him. He murmured to his companion, and they each set down their game and drew their knives, slowly closing in.

“Who's there?”

Albtraum staggered out to face them. They watched, cautious, finally determining by the lack of any response from him, the drawn weapon, and the fresh bloodstains splattered across his hunched form, that he was no ally.

The first dashed forward and avoided Albtraum's initial attack, leaving a long knife wound along the bottom of Albtraum’s ribcage where his plate armor ended. The pain came as a dull, barely comprehensible ache, and Albtraum swung again, by a sheer stroke of luck managing to hit the man's chest. The rusty, dulled blade left a ragged wound, blood flowed, and Albtraum felt a spark of life return to him.

While he had been absorbed in killing the first, the second man came from behind and tried to put the knife in his back – he turned, gripping the man's weapon arm, grappling with him for a moment as the man managed to stab the knife into his shoulder with a cry of rage. The pain came stronger this time, exacerbating the injury that was already there, and with a hiss, Albtraum dropped his own weapon to wrench the knife away and grabbed the man's neck, pressing his thumbs into the man's windpipe.

He struggled, hard to hold, for a moment, before his choking gasps became more desperate, his clawing at Albtraum's arms became weaker, as Albtraum steadily tightened his grasp. Finally, with a satisfying crack, he felt the neck break, the man's eyes rolled back into his head, and he went limp.

Tossing the corpse aside, Albtraum retrieved his sword and stood motionless for a moment, allowing the newly acquired power to sink in. It wasn't much, but he felt revived now, their life force would hold him over until the next hunt.

Though they shouldn't have had to, he realized. He had just completed a hunt, a fairly well-sized group at that. He should have been brimming with vitality for weeks.

Lucifurius had siphoned away nearly every last bit of not only his acquired power, but Albtraum's own life force.

Albtraum’s feelings of hurt and betrayal returned, and he extended inquiries to Lucifurius, his wounded psyche pleading for comfort.

What he received was a sharp admonishment.

_Senseless fool... You know not the true consequence of our toils, else you would see that, in this crusade, your own existence is of little importance. If you gave one moment of thought to the future we fight for, you would die happily for it._

This troubled Albtraum. Lucifurius had guided his every step, watching over him with all the care and concern of the most loving of fathers, and now told him his life was worthless, a thing to be cast aside for the good of the cause. He had been obedient to Lucifurius’ orders, he had taken human souls as he was instructed. He had done everything he could to be a good and loyal host.

And he was just something to be discarded… just as humans discarded their daemon children? The thought hurt to hold, burning his chest as if made of fire.

_You pathetic little imbecile. How dare you compare me to the filthy dregs who scorn our blood. I have led you to where you now stand, boy, you'd best remember that, ere you question my will ever again._

_Or would you rather face this world on your own?_

Albtraum’s hurt faded into growing shame. Lucifurius was all Albtraum had in the world, the only thing that had shown him any path to follow. He had to give not only his trust, but the entirety of his being to his master.

As much as he feared death, if he had to face it to further their objectives, then face death he must.

The change in Lucifurius’ tone was so sudden, Albtraum wondered if he had merely imagined his rage. _Forgive me my harshness, child. I grow impatient for the time of our rule. We must not tarry any longer – our prey calls for destruction._

Albtraum silently accepted his master's apologies.

But somewhere, deep down within, something faltered in him. He did not move forward with the same purpose as he had before… There was hesitation in his steps, so slight that perhaps even he could not feel it.

Albtraum, the perfect puppet, had been tainted by doubt.


	5. Chapter IV

_“Septimus?”_

_Ishtar’s voice rang out high and clear through the room, echoing over the high stone ceilings._

_Broken from his reverie, Septimus looked over to the doorway of the study he had sequestered himself away in. Some of his fellow scholars milled about among the records, paying him no notice. Their ignorance had been strangely comforting._

_Ishtar stepped inside, a look of concern written across her fair features. Septimus tried to smile in greeting, but he knew he could not hide his exhaustion from her._

_Nevertheless, she did seem relieved enough upon seeing him. “I apologize if I am intruding, but you have not paid me a visit in some time…” Her tone was strained, made careful as it often was in the presence of others. She frowned, motioning for him to follow her. “Come, let us converse elsewhere.”_

_When they had passed the doorway, Ishtar gently took hold of his hand, leading him to a dark and secluded corner in the halls._

_“Have you…?” Ishtar spoke in a hushed voice as she looked over him carefully._

Oh, this is the one you have kept me from…

She is powerful indeed. Perhaps you should add her essence to our own before she learns of me… She will never look upon you in the same way again.

_Septimus bit down on his tongue, fighting back Lucifurius’ influence. He could not lie to Ishtar. If only for her own safety._

_“Yes,” he answered, his voice hardly above a whisper. “I have made contact with the dark. I house a piece of his soul within myself.”_

_Ishtar drew in a breath, hard and sharp, but took Septimus’ hand into hers. “Septimus…”_

_He gave a humorless laugh. “I have already arrived at the conclusion that you were right… His intentions are not benevolent. The knowledge he has paid to me of late has been far beyond my ken.”_

_Ishtar pressed closer to him, concerned and protective. “What has he requested in return?”_

_“Life.” Septimus could not meet her eyes. “As much as I can gather… more and more all the time. He is insatiable. Ishtar… I…” He bit his lip, his grip tightening on her hand in his. “I have tried to visit death only upon those who might be deserving of it. But my will is slipping…”_

_His voice broke, and he wrenched his eyes shut as they misted over with tears. “Ishtar, I have killed innocents. I have awoken far from where I went to sleep, standing over those I have slaughtered. For months, I was convinced I could use this for my own benefit, that I could control him… what a fool I was.”_

_He expected Ishtar to pull away, to run from him, to leave him there and never look upon him again. He wanted her to. He willed her to, silently._

_But she only swept him into her arms and held tightly to him. “You will not fight him alone, love. I will stand with you.”_

All will only rot from here… you know this.

_Kill her, now, and you may live within this moment forever… I can make it so._

_Septimus held to Ishtar as if she were the only thing that anchored him to the world._

_“We have to leave, Ishtar. We must run far from this place, and we cannot look back.”_

* * *

Albtraum was on the trail of a large source of power, as he had been for days. Lucifurius told him it was a kingdom, a far cry from the small villages they had hunted before. Anticipation fluttered in Albtraum’s chest. He was eager to prove himself to Lucifurius, to demonstrate his loyalty and his strength after the mistakes he had made before.

He climbed over the snowy path, the frozen ground crunching beneath his worn leather boots as his mind wandered to thoughts of what lay in wait for them. He felt the chill of the air, and his toes were somewhat numb in his boots as he moved. His breath fogged before him, barely visible in the dim light of the early dawn.

He slowed to a halt as he began to sense another essence mingling with the distant essence of the kingdom at the top of the mountains. It was a great power, but a familiar one… It did not feel the same as prey.

_Ah, of course…_ _We are close to a Rift._

Albtraum tilted up his mask to peer into the dense woods – just beyond the trees, in a small clearing, stood a small stone structure. He moved toward it, placing his footsteps carefully as he came upon the stone archway was built into the side of a small hill. Ruins of a structure that had once stood above ground littered the forests around it, great blocks of stone crumbling from age and covered over with moss. He stepped closer to the archway, it was too dark to see much inside, but as his eyes adjusted he could make out a faint glow deep inside the structure.

_This was the first of my Rifts… Places where I have reached from our world into this one, feeding on the life of this place to strengthen my own. They have attempted to contain me… But it will take more than stone walls to do so, now that I have you._ _The Rift is within this temple. We will return here soon… these are the only paths we have back to our home, and this is where I must complete the body._

This, then, was a path to his home. This was hallowed ground, thus why he had sensed such a great power. His hand carefully extended into the heavy darkness beyond the archway, his fingers stretching out as though reaching for something. The air felt warm, as though a fire burned somewhere deep within, out of sight.

Half formed questions danced in Albtraum's mind for a few moments, and Lucifurius offered back equally half-formed answers. Home… What lay in wait at the top of the mountain? The body?

_Up the mountain may be the last place we must travel before I can gain physical form._

It seemed baffling to Albtraum that they were here – he had always known that to exist in a body of his own was Lucifurius’ ultimate goal, but he was suddenly uneasy at the thought of what would happen once Lucifurius was separated from him. Albtraum could not imagine himself existing separately, and the idea of being alone was terrifying.

_My child, you have nothing to fear. You will remain at my side when I crush this world beneath my heel._

Albtraum still stood at the small archway, trembling. He tugged at his gauntlets as he struggled to steady himself.

He had to prove himself worthy of being kept.

He drew back from the warm darkness of the temple and advanced up the narrow path that lead to the top of the mountain, determined to reap whatever power lay in wait for Lucifurius. The trek up the mountain was long and arduous, but with Lucifurius’ strength, Albtraum did not tire. The morning sun had fully risen when the path led him above the trees, and he looked forward to their newest hunting ground – the city, nestled into the mountaintop, surrounded by sizable escarpments and a great wall. Impassable for an army, but for a single assailant, the natural defense amounted to little.

Albtraum scaled the steep path to the city gates with ease. He could hear the bustling of activity as he neared, and the life force contained within the city walls was indeed great… A veritable feast for his master.

He moved quietly into the city as instructed. He found it difficult not to be in awe of the towering walls surrounding it, the intricately elegant architecture of the buildings within the city. It was built on a mountainside, leveled like a staircase, with ledges leading up to the magnificent estate at the city's center. Ramps and stairs were built between levels, plazas and marketplaces on each. Clearly, this was a prosperous kingdom, filled to the brim with powerful essences to be obtained.

Hiding himself in the shadows, Albtraum slipped past the idling guards towards the mass of energy at the city's center, weaving in and out of the cover provided by the buildings as he scaled the levels of the city. There were many humans milling about in the streets, idle chatter filling the cold morning air. He wanted to lurch into the crowds, to begin his attack – but Lucifurius urged hesitation.

_Take care, child. There are many men who stand ready to defend this place. To have you struck down when we are so close to our objective would be problematic, to say the least._

Albtraum was somewhat apprehensive as he emerged into the streets, unnoticed as of yet as he struggled to decide where to begin.

He realized through his mounting tension that he was walking among the townspeople. He had never walked alongside humans in such a manner before, he had always been hunting them. It was strange, almost surreal. There were so many of them. He had never seen this many humans in such a state of calm.

For a moment, he stood almost mesmerized.

There were merchant stands in the streets, people dressed in furs milling about talking to one another, gathered around fire pits that burned along the sides of the streets for warmth. It seemed odd to Albtraum that there would be so much activity with the weather that was moving in, but none of the people seemed deterred.

The soldiers in particular caught his attention – they were watching their city vigilantly, weapons at the ready. They were attired in uniforms of gray and green, light armor over the coats. They carried spears and swords. With such numbers they could overpower him quickly, so if he were to engage them, he would have to be wary – he would have to kill efficiently.

It was not long before Albtraum was noticed by the townspeople surrounding him. They eyed him suspiciously, whispering to each other. The guards walking along the road glanced at him and muttered to their partners, reaching for weapons.

The calm had faded. He had been noticed.

The humans scattered, the quiet of the open air splitting into shouts of alarm as Albtraum drew his own sword. The guards rushed at him.

There were two of them – more would come, he knew – and he lunged forward, sweeping his blade out in front of him. The men moved back, and he saw that he had only grazed one across the arm. He darted away from them, backing towards the overhang into the lower level of the city.

The two guards shouted, calling for assistance, knowing this to be no minor threat – they were not fools. They may have even recognized him.

 _Perhaps it is unwise to continue,_ Lucifurius mused, uneasiness edging into his tone. _There are so many of them, and you find yourself in a disadvantageous position…_

Albtraum held the guards off at the ledge's end, trading blows that accomplished little, and Lucifurius’ apprehension grew as the fight continued. Albtraum would soon be outnumbered, outmatched, and defeat was a looming possibility.

Still, he could not back down here. He could not give in to his weakness. For all the humans had done, they had to be punished.

The guards, though, seemed to be holding back. Albtraum gave them a wide berth, knowing he would leave his back open to attack no matter which one he chose to attack.

Albtraum was jolted out of thought when someone dashed past the standing guards, approaching quickly enough that he only had time to catch his attacker's weapon in a sloppy parry, and was knocked onto his back.

He quickly rolled over, climbing to his feet again to face his attacker -

A rush of rage shot through him as he came face-to-face with the immortal woman he’d fled from in the forests.

This time, _this time..._

The woman reeled back, looking just as surprised as himself, and her face twisted into a snarl. “What a surprise,” she greeted him. “You're still at it – well I'll tell you this, boy, you're ever more the fool for coming after _these_ people in _this_ city. _My_ home. You won't walk away this time.”

One of the guards rushed over, grabbing her by the arm.

“Uemytlach!” he shouted at her. “The queen wants him alive!”

“I find that very hard to believe,” the woman snapped back, pushing the messy fringe of her short hair out of her face. “He's a well-known murderer, you're just afraid to fight him.”

Albtraum pondered what the guards had said, his thoughts tangling in confusion. He was wanted alive by the ruler of the city? How had they recognized him, or known he would be here?

The other guard lunged to restrain the woman, but she was faster, breaking away and rushing Albtraum and thrusting her weapon out in front of her. He sidestepped to avoid her, irritated that she was faster than he was. More guards had started to gather at the head of the street, watching them. She lashed out again, and he blocked the strike with the flat of his blade, but she kept moving, forcing him backwards.

Albtraum quickly surveyed his battleground. He was backed against the very edge of this level of the city, and thus in a disadvantageous position. He glanced behind him, and then quickly turned and made a leap to the roof of a building just below him, landing squarely on his feet. The woman did not hesitate to follow.

“Look what a coward you are, running away.” She grinned, following after him.

She irritated him. There was a lofty, arrogant confidence in the way she spoke, the way she moved.

“Your words are empty air. Let your blade speak for you if you truly believe you can kill me.” Lucifurius spoke through Albtraum, and Albtraum's fist clenched around the handle of his weapon.

The woman smirked, readying her own weapon. “Can't wait to die? All the same to me.”

Albtraum's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. He lunged, slashing at her - the woman parried expertly, hooking the blade of his sword with the end of her own weapon. He wrenched free, the scream of metal against metal piercing the damp air.

“Terrible form! Just awful!” she laughed, ramming into his chest with her shoulder, knocking him onto his back once again. As he fell, he kicked one foot out from under her, sending her tripping and falling onto her backside.

As they both climbed to their feet to face eachother again, he swiped at her again, slicing shallowly across her knuckles as she tried to move away.

She yelled out and then hissed, holding her injured hand at her side, though her pain quickly faded into a mocking smirk as the wound healed instantly. Albtraum’s eyes darted to the guards behind her – a large gathering had formed, and they seemed to be hesitant to enter the fray.

“You can't kill me,” she taunted, shaking her hand a few times before returning it to its grip on her staff. “You fight like a buffoon.”

Albtraum answered with a sudden swing at her head that she ducked to avoid. Lucifurius spoke again, maintaining an air of calm in Albtraum’s voice even around his own breath, heavy with exertion. “You'd do well not to insult the future ruler of your world, human.”

She nimbly darted back, still laughing. It was perhaps the most irritating sound he'd ever heard. “I suppose you think that's you? You must have forgotten to factor in the unfortunate fact that I'll have killed you by the end of this fight.”

 _You are wasting time with this one,_ Lucifurius spoke directly to Albtraum. _We are not yet powerful enough… I had thought we might be stronger by this time…_

There were guards at his back, now, carefully circling the two like they were a pair of wild animals.

_We should take this opportunity to flee. The guards may pursue you, but you can easily outmaneuver them._

Albtraum stood fast. He refused to flee again, he would not be made the fool again. He was frantic with anger and fear. Fleeing again would mean utter defeat. It would mean admitting, to himself and Lucifurius, that he was not worthy of the task.

He would be calling for his own demise.

He moved to strike again, and the woman evaded the attack easily – so damn quick, and Albtraum's irritation was none the less for it.

They circled each other, traded blows. A dull ache radiated behind Albtraum’s eyes as Lucifurius continued to urge him to flee.

The dance of battle continued – attack, parry, counter, avoid. The smirk in the woman's eyes spurred him on, his attacks became more violent, his swings less controlled. Exhaustion had begun to slow his movements, but he could not afford to give in.

Enraged, panting hard, Albtraum advanced once more. She only dodged and countered with small nicks to his unarmored joints.

“You're not terribly good at this, boy. Where'd you learn to fight?” the woman asked, smug and scornful.

Albtraum snarled at her. “You humans are all the same! You think yourselves superior to us, but you kill and mutilate our kind because you fear the power we hold!” The words were born of Albtraum's frustration, but tempered and spoken by Lucifurius. “To birth our race is a gift you have foolishly cast aside, and you are all too damned foolish to see the truth until _the moment you lay dying at my feet!_ ”

The woman's smug smile only widened. “Deep issues, hmm? Temper, temper... You'll never get anywhere, swinging that sword around like a dolt – Don't worry, I'll put you out of your misery, whelp.”

Almost before Albtraum could react, she jabbed toward him with the blade of her staff, catching him in the gut, cutting down deep, past where he could feel it. Dark blood seeped through the tattered black tunic he wore beneath his armor when the blade was pulled out of him.

He inhaled sharply, pushing the pain away. He could still continue.

But as he took an instinctive step back, his foot found no purchase. He caught sight of his opponent’s face, twisted into a triumphant smirk – and then fell.

He realized the woman had pushed him back to the edge of the roof… there was nothing behind him but empty air.

A moment of regret pierced his consciousness – such a foolish, insignificant mistake, and it had cost him his victory...

The shock of hitting the ground jarred him, and then he went numb, crumpled in a heap on the stone street, a small pool of blood glistening on the damp stones beside him. Blood coated his tongue and he tried to draw in a breath, but it was as if all the air had gone and there was simply nothing left to breathe.

He thought he managed one feeble gasp before his vision blurred and went black.


	6. Chapter V

Sleep felt like death, awakening like birth.

Albtraum became aware of his existence from the ache that spread through his body as he slowly gained consciousness. He groaned, shifting one muscle at a time, carefully rolling onto his side, feeling sharp pain stab into him as he did. His body had become little more than a net of aches, some dull and some sharp as knives.

As he gradually remembered where he was and how he'd gotten there, he let out an involuntary growl of frustration. He had failed once again. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, and the gash in his torso protested. He winced. His blood on the stone street around him was dark and congealed, and a light dusting of snow had begun covering the ground. He had been unconscious for a while.

_On your feet, child. We are not alone._

Albtraum’s hand clumsily grasped for his sword until his fingers brushed the hilt, he gripped it and carefully craned his neck to observe his surroundings. He had fallen into an alleyway, far from the activity of the city. His mask of bone lay in scattered splinters on the ground around him. And most surprisingly… his wound had been dressed.

His hand unconsciously moved to the bandages. The blood had seeped through them, but they held fast. He could not say for certain, but… the dressings might have saved his life.

As consciousness slowly returned to him, he became sharply aware of a great power near to him… more power than he had sensed in the whole of the city. His eyes focused ahead.

He jumped back, crouched on his knees and holding the sword defensively in front of him as he saw the line of soldiers facing him down. They had weapons at the ready, but did not seem intent on attacking. Albtraum groaned as the sudden movement sent bursts of pain through his body. He was at a distinct disadvantage… his mind raced as he tried to formulate a plan to escape.

“I'll thank you not to undo my work, sir.”

A voice, high and sharp, echoed across the alley. Albtraum’s eyes darted to the source, a young woman dressed in lavish finery, a wine colored dress embellished with gold threads and tiny jewels, a thick-furred white cloak draped around her shoulders. She stood at the center of the group of soldiers, the men rallied around her. She was clearly no commoner.

Waves of dark chestnut hair framed a soft-featured face, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She was thin, delicately boned, almost reminding Albtraum of a bird, but there was something undeniably powerful and authoritative about the way she carried herself. Albtraum looked her in the eyes – jade green, and something almost disturbing about them... They were out of place, ages older than their owner looked to be.

He could sense that she was the source of the immense power he had noticed. Albtraum prepared himself to lunge. She was his chance to prove himself…

She would be last necessary sacrifice on Lucifurius’ altar.

_No, you fool! You are wounded, and she holds more power than you can even comprehend! She can end your life with but a word._

Albtraum considered this. Indeed, this woman held a massive strength, matched only by Lucifurius. She had the means to kill him… but she had not. Every moment that passed was another chance to snuff him out, yet she and her soldiers stood fast. She had tended his injuries, saving him from death. Why?

No one moved, the only sounds were of tense breaths and the distant clamor of the city above them.

There had to be some reason she had kept him alive… Curiosity, more than anything, had overpowered Albtraum’s thoughts. He turned to Lucifurius, questions dancing between them. His arm was slowly lowering to place his sword on the ground.

_You are too gravely wounded to escape, and I lack the strength to heal you… I fear we have no choice but to surrender ourselves, and hope for a chance to break free._

_Lay down your weapon… Do not resist._

“I do hope you are not planning to engage in combat,” The woman called, breaking the silence. As Albtraum looked closer, he could see that her hand rested on the hilt of a sword at her belt, half-covered by her cloak. “You are in poor shape and will end up none the better for it.”

Albtraum dropped the sword to the ground with a sharp clatter, slowly rising to his feet. The soldiers rushed him, but he remained where he stood, unmoving, as one on each side roughly took hold of his arms to restrain him. It was painful, and he struggled not to wince.

“Do be careful,” the woman instructed the guards. “It would not do to injure him further.”

Albtraum remembered his missing mask, feeling uncomfortably exposed without it. As the guards silently led him up to the gate of the castle, he shook his head, allowing his tangled crimson tresses to fall in front of his face, obscuring it from view. Still, he peered past the strands in front of his face to get a better look at his surroundings.

Inquisitiveness cut its way through his tension and fear as he saw the city around him. The architecture was magnificent, unlike anything he had ever seen. The towering levels, built into the mountainside, were filled with large, ornate structures, and the streets and stair steps were cobbled with smooth and even stones.

The people in the streets spoke in hushed voices as Albtraum was led through, bowing their heads as the woman passed. It seemed she was their queen.

_She is one of them. One of our enemies._

Before Albtraum could ask Lucifurius to tell him more, they had reached the castle gate. Though not as large and assuming as some of the fortresses he and Lucifurius had seen, it was certainly impressive. He had never been this close to such a structure before, much less inside one.

The warmth of the air beyond the doors of the castle enveloped him as he was led inside. The soldiers’ grip on his arm tightened slightly as they stepped passed into the halls, and he squirmed slightly, uncomfortable in their grasp. He turned his head to stare at them as they moved, fascinated to see a human in such close quarters. Battle was different, in the chaos of combat he had never been able to closely examine a human face before. Shallow lines crossed the man’s face, hinting at encroaching age, and a faint haze of stubble covered the lower half of his face.

The man turned and looked back at him pointedly, scowling. Albtraum frowned and turned his gaze forward again.

The inside of the castle was well-lit, abundant candlelight casting a warm glow throughout the halls. Guards stood at attention at each doorway they passed, greeting the woman at the head of the group with a brief nod.

The hall they travelled had grown slightly dimmer by the time they reached its end, a large, thick wooden door, slightly open. The woman stood aside as the guards made their way in first, guiding Albtraum past the doorway into the large room ahead of them.

A line of beds stood against the wall, some with dozing occupants, some empty. A row of large cupboards and shelves stood against the back wall, filled with glass bottles in many sizes and colors, along with neatly folded sheets and piles of hastily crumpled up linens.

 A stocky-framed young woman with mousy brown hair twisted into a messy braid was looking through one of the cupboards. When she heard the group approaching, she turned, bowing.

“Your Majesty. What can I do for you?” She raised an eyebrow in Albtraum’s direction.

“This young man is injured. I did what I could to tend to him, but I believe he has need of further treatment, and your expertise exceeds my own,” the queen answered.

The guards pulled Albtraum over to a table, forcing him down to sitting on it. The queen gave a curt wave of her hand, carefully approaching Albtraum as the men released him and stepped back, awaiting further orders.

“I must say, I am surprised to have seen you give yourself up with so little resistance,” she said slowly, crossing her arms as she circled the table and came to a halt directly in front of Albtraum. Her cloak was pushed back, giving him a clear view of the small sword that hung on a belt at her waist. It was well maintained, but the wear of use showed beneath the shine. It was not simply for show.

Albtraum peered up at her from behind the tangled mass of his hair. In this state of tension, he could not find his voice – Lucifurius spoke for him instead. “Clearly, it would have been a fool’s errand to resist.”

She eyed him carefully. “Do you know where you are?”

Lucifurius began to answer, but Albtraum caught his words before they were spoken. Lucifurius knew this place, and if he said as much, Albtraum risked not receiving an explanation.

“No. I do not.”

_A den of enemies. That is all you need to know._

“What is your name?” she asked him, leaning against the table behind her.

Albtraum hesitated before responding. Declining held the risk of making him appear fearful, and he did not wish to show any weakness. However, the discomfort associated with sharing his name was strong.

“…Albtraum,” he answered quietly after a long silence.

“Albtraum,” she repeated, and his name sounded odd spoken in another’s voice. “Welcome to Sylva, Albtraum. My name is Mianna, and I am the queen of this kingdom. We have much to discuss, but your injuries must first be seen to.”

The queen, who had introduced herself as Mianna, stepped aside as the medicine woman approached, arms laden with bandages, bottles, and a knife. Albtraum tensed, his hands gripping the edge of the table he was sitting on. Surely they would not have led him all the way here simply to kill him…

The woman gripped a fistful of Albtraum’s clothes and cut through them with the knife with a labored ripping sound, and he flinched away from her as she pulled the musty layers of clothing away from his body. When she’d cut through the coats, she began pulling off his ragged undershirt and tunic, catching them on his unwilling arms. The clothes were stiff with months of unwashed blood and grime, reeking of the scent of death. The air was a shock against his skin, which had not been exposed in weeks. His body was covered in dark bruises and blood from the wound in his gut.

The medicine woman stepped back to look him over once he wore nothing but his boots and tattered smallclothes. She huffed. “What happened to him?”

“A clash with Ismaire, I’m afraid,” Mianna answered.

“Oh ho,” she chuckled, “That certainly explains it.”

Her touch on his skin was alien, and he pulled away from her slowly, frowning as she felt along his side, prodding the tender bruises. He winced audibly, squirming in place.

“Treating you will be a mite difficult if you don’t sit still there, boy.” She jabbed his side, and he grunted.

“Aleksandra, please do be gentle,” Mianna interjected firmly.

“’Course, Your Majesty.” The woman, evidently named Aleksandra, sighed. She carefully tipped his head up by his chin and looked at his head, poking and prodding and pulling his hair aside a bit – which _hurt_ – before stopping just above his ears, frowning slightly as she rubbed his head on each side, feeling the remnants of his horns. “Odd,” she commented. “Protrusions from the skull…”

Albtraum jerked away. “ _Don’t,”_ he snarled.

The doctor drew in sharp breath to retaliate, but Mianna stepped forward. “Tend his injuries, Aleksandra, nothing more.”

Albtraum’s attention turned to Mianna, and he found himself overwhelmed with uncertainty. He turned to Lucifurius for answers.

_She is one of the Order who have tried to contain me… We once worked together, but she opposes us now. She seeks to end my reign… To destroy my children. The whole of this kingdom kneels to her…_

_I believe she knows you are my vessel… She intends to hold us as prisoners._

Aleksandra retrieved an amber bottle filled with a dark liquid from the table. She opened it and poured some onto a rag, then scrubbed at the wound. Whatever was on the rag, it brought on a fresh sensation of stabbing pain. Albtraum hissed. He turned his gaze back to the queen, expecting to find her watching with amusement at his pain, instead met with a carefully expressionless countenance.

“I wouldn't complain, boy, this will stop the rot,” Aleksandra muttered. She tossed the rag aside and reached for clean linen bandages, binding them tightly around Albtraum’s abdomen. As she was checking her work, Mianna said something Albtraum could not hear to a guard standing near her.

“As I said,” she said clearly, turning back to Albtraum. “There is much we still must discuss. But given the severity of your injuries, you require time to heal before we begin our talks... At least until the morning.”

A guard handed Albtraum a threadbare, but clean and soft set of clothes. He cautiously accepted them, removing his boots and then pulling the clothes on over his aching and broken body, suddenly uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on him as he dressed himself. The clothes were soft, and felt better against his bruised skin than his rough old coats had, though they were ill-fitting and hung too loosely on his thin frame while still being too short.

“Nothing too serious,” Aleksandra informed Mianna. “Won’t want to knock him about any more than he has been, though. Bit fragile, this one.”

“Thank you, Aleksandra, you are dismissed.”

Aleksandra gave another quick bow and returned to her work elsewhere, gathering the supplies she had used to put away.

“I do hope you will not require us to restrain you again,” Mianna said to Albtraum as he stood from the table again. Her posture was relaxed, but Albtraum’s gaze was quickly directed to her hand – faintly resting on the hilt of her blade once again.

“…No,” Albtraum said simply, as the guards came to stand on either side of him once more.

A faint smile quirked across Mianna’s lips. “Very good. Do get some rest, Albtraum.”

One of the guards motioned for Albtraum to move toward the door, and he did so obediently, watching carefully for a means of escape. He was unarmed, defenseless… He had little chance of success in this state, and Lucifurius silently agreed, urging him to remain cautious.

Albtraum was led through the hallways once again, his bare feet making no sound as he moved across the cold stone floors, the guards’ metal-clad boots clanking rhythmically as they walked close alongside him. Although they had not touched him, their hands firmly gripped the weapons at their belts. They came to a stop at a door, the guards opening it and motioning for Albtraum to step inside.

He hesitated, looking each guard in the eye before stepping into the doorway. They returned his gaze with unease – they were afraid of him.

The door was quickly shut behind him and he heard the gentle clicking of the lock shifting into place. Albtraum looked around the room – it was beautifully ornate, with a large window that looked out over the city. He frowned as he looked down – the window was far too high to consider escaping from, but if death was required of him to prevent them from falling into the grasp of the enemy-

_We have no need of such thoughts just yet, child._

Albtraum turned to examine the large bed in the center of the room, covered with an intricately embroidered velvet duvet. Everything about the room was drenched in opulence – to Albtraum, it seemed a very odd place to house a prisoner.

As thoughts of escape became more and more faraway, beyond his reach, Albtraum began to consider another course of action.

For the first time in his life, he addressed Lucifurius directly.

_They want something from us._

Lucifurius chuckled. _You are most observant._

Albtraum sat upon the bed, running his hand upon the duvet. It was the softest material his fingers had ever touched.

_We are very close to them… And they are very powerful enemies._

Lucifurius’ amusement turned slightly exasperated. _Yes…_

_We have a chance to learn their weaknesses. To infiltrate their organization. To learn._

Lucifurius was silent for a very long time.

 _This is what has made you the favorite among my children,_ he crooned. _What a magnificent idea. We will remain… Dancing the steps they require of us, holding a blade behind our backs. They will be the instrument of their own destruction._

Warmed by the praise, Albtraum eased back to lie down on the bed, curling under the soft layers of blankets. It was the most comfortable place he had ever laid down to sleep in the whole of his life, and he could not stop a slight sigh from escaping him as he found the pain of his wounds slightly eased.

He began to consider how to proceed – how he would execute his deception, how he would learn his enemies’ weaknesses – but the moment he had settled into the bed, his eyes slid closed, and the weight of exhaustion dragged him into sleep.


	7. Chapter VI

The sun was high in the sky when Albtraum awoke, bright light shining through the tall window and glinting off the gilded surfaces inside the bedroom. He remained nestled under the duvet, finding the soft warmth of the bed impossible to part with just yet.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting in the bright morning light as he looked around the bedroom. He pushed himself up to sitting, the aching of his body reminding him of the injuries he’d sustained. He examined his surroundings, his eyes drawn to a pair of leather shoes that had been left next to the door.

Albtraum frowned as he climbed out of the bed and made his way to the door to pick them up. Someone had come into the room without alerting him… A realization that made him somewhat uneasy.

_I would not advise giving yourself over to sleep so deeply in the future._

Albtraum grimaced at Lucifurius’ subtle admonishment, guilt rising up in him at the thought that he had placed Lucifurius in jeopardy. He examined the boots carefully before pulling them on. They were made of soft leather, lined with some kind of fur. They were far more comfortable than anything he had worn on his feet before.

_We have much to do._

Lucifurius’ tone was curt and somewhat impatient, urging Albtraum on. He reached out and carefully tested the knob of the door, surprised to find it give way and open. Either someone had forgotten to lock him in again, or…

“Plan to sleep the day away, do you?”

Albtraum jumped, whirling to face the source of the gruff voice that had addressed him, finding himself facing one of the guards. The man was dressed differently from the others, more embellishment in the gray coat of his uniform, a dark green cloak draped around his broad shoulders. He was older, but brawny and well-built, with reddish brown hair graying at the temples, and stern green eyes. A thick beard, also peppered with gray hairs, covered the lower half of his face - but a scar running from the side of his mouth was clearly visible.

Albtraum straightened to look the man in the eyes, somewhat surprised to find that he stood a few inches taller than Albtraum himself. Albtraum had always been quite tall, and was used to standing above most people he encountered.

The guard regarded Albtraum coldly, suspicion heavy and piercing in his gaze. “You are due an audience with the queen.”

Albtraum rubbed the sleep from his eyes, rolling his shoulders back and waiting for the man to offer further instruction. Like the queen, the man exuded an aura of great power – was he perhaps immortal as well? That would explain why he did not seem at all uneasy as the other guards had been.

“I feel you should be informed that royal guests do not usually sleep until midday,” the man grumbled.

“Well, I seem to be rather more a prisoner than a guest,” Albtraum mumbled sourly, a frown wrinkling his brow.

_Tread carefully, child._

The man replied with a heavy sigh. “Do you have a name, boy?”

“Albtraum,” he answered reluctantly, barely audible.

“Well, Albtraum, I would advise you speak more respectfully when you meet with the queen.”

Albtraum glared at the guard's back as he turned to lead him down the hall. He detested being talked down to so. Who did this man think he was?

_You must be cooperative if we are to gain their trust._

Albtraum huffed quietly, continuing along after the guard as they walked from the narrow hallway of guest rooms to the wider halls of the large estate. The skies outside were still gray, and light snow was falling. But the light of day was still filtering in through tall windows, and the beauty of the hallways was even more apparent – the stones were immaculately polished, the walls draped with fine tapestries, and the shadows where the light from the windows could not reach were gently illuminated by ornate candelabras.

Albtraum looked around the halls carefully as they moved, familiarizing himself with the tangled web of hallways, ignoring the stares from the young guards pacing around the doors. They watched him like they would a wild animal, ready to strike if he moved wrong.

Their alertness reminded him only of his own weakened state… Injured, imprisoned, and unarmed. There was little he could do.

They came to an abrupt stop upon reaching an open door, and the guard Albtraum had been following motioned for him to step inside. A large desk sat at the center of the room with a large armchair behind it – where the queen, Mianna, sat waiting for him.

She gave a pleasant smile as she saw him, motioning to the smaller armchair in front of the desk, across from herself. “Please, sit.”

Albtraum glanced behind him at the guard as he stepped inside and shut the door, standing like a wall between Albtraum and the path to the outside. Frowning, he eased himself down into the armchair, trying not to wince the pain of his broken body flared sharply.

“I see you have met Brunhart, our Captain of the Guard,” Mianna commented, nodding to the guard. “How are your injuries?”

“…Well enough,” Albtraum answered quietly, grasping for Lucifurius’ guidance and finding himself met with silence.

“It is good you are able to move, but the doctor has informed me that you should still be resting whenever possible. You have made no attempts to resist me or my guards, so I am hoping this means you may be willing to hear what I have to say.”

Albtraum straightened, regarding her coldly. “As your prisoner, I do not seem to have much choice in the matter.”

From what Albtraum understood from Lucifurius’ teachings, royalty were generally thin-skinned and easily offended. But Mianna seemed more amused at his brusqueness than anything. With a smile that was just condescending enough to irritate him, she said, “Well, you are not required to stay, if you do not wish to. But I can do nothing to stop my guards from killing you if you choose to leave. Besides, I believe we can both be of assistance to each other.”

“Really? And how, pray tell, do you suppose you might assist me?” he mumbled, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She leaned back in her seat, eyeing him carefully. “You are the host of another being, are you not?”

_To attempt deception will only make you harder to trust. She knows._

“Yes,” Albtraum replied.

“I am sure you must want independence. Control over your own mind and body.”

Albtraum’s brow furrowed – though he understood her words, he could not fathom why she thought this might be something he wanted. His first instinct was to agree… but a need to understand overpowered it.

“Why should I desire such a thing?”

“I am sure it is no secret to you that your master…” Mianna paused, looking pointedly at him. He stared blankly back.

_My name. She wishes to know my name._

“Lucifurius.” Speaking his name was even more uncomfortable than speaking his own had been.

“Lucifurius,” Mianna replied with a nod. “Surely you must have realized by this point that you are nothing but a pawn to him.”

Albtraum had never questioned this fact, but Mianna spoke of it as though it were something he should not be satisfied with. “I suppose,” he answered, guarded, wondering what she might say next.

Mianna seemed to consider how to proceed for a moment. She held Albtraum’s gaze for a time before letting out a soft sigh and turning toward the window.

“There is more that we can offer you, if you are willing to provide us your support.” She looked back over to him. “I am sure he has told you something of us… We are the Order of Azoth, an organization dedicated to preserving the balance of power in this world and the world of your birth.”

 _And to meddling in affairs they have no business in,_ Lucifurius hissed.

“You provide us with a uniquely valuable insight – a deeper understanding of the being you are host to. In return, we can offer you a chance at independence... We can help you to separate yourself from him.”

Albtraum recalled that for Lucifurius to exist without the need of a host had been their goal from the beginning. This arrangement would surely be beneficial to them… along with the chance to give Lucifurius greater access to the weaknesses of those who would stand against him.

Mianna cleared her throat, breaking the long silence that had gone on between them. “I am sure you must be quite overwhelmed by all that has happened. We can discuss matters further at a later time… perhaps after you have had more time to rest, and a meal in your belly.”

“I will consider it,” Albtraum replied, trying to sound somewhat disinterested, but finding it difficult.

She smiled at him. “Good. I look forward to discussing our plans further. I will have servants tend to your needs – but I must warn you, should you harm any of them, my offer will be rescinded, and you truly will be a prisoner here. Do we have an understanding?”

Albtraum shifted, uneasy. “Yes.”

“Wonderful.” Mianna stood, and looked to Brunhart, the guard. “Please see our guest to the kitchens, I believe he must be quite famished.”

Albtraum’s nose wrinkled slightly at the idea of consuming human sustenance, but he did not have any other options at present if he wished to remain in Mianna’s good graces, and his strength was beginning to wane as he had not had a successful hunt in quite some time.

Brunhart nodded in response to Mianna’s order, opening the door for Albtraum and waiting for him to step into the hall before following after him.

The hallways were bustling with of guards and servants, and Albtraum found the flurry of activity dizzying to watch. It was so different from the chaos of battle – alien and wholly unfamiliar. Although Albtraum was accustomed to battle, he had no desire to return to those routines now – the newness of this experience excited and intrigued him. In fact, his self-appointed mission to gather information for Lucifurius was far from his mind as his curiosity grew around the new experience before him.

He glanced over to Brunhart, who walked beside him. Although the man’s posture feigned relaxation, Albtraum could see in the careful way he placed his steps and the way he frequently glanced over that he was ready for the possibility of combat.

The silence between them felt odd after the conversation he had just had. Perhaps there was information Albtraum could glean from him.

“You are an immortal,” he commented.

“Yes,” Brunhart answered gruffly, with no hesitation. “I suppose the daemon in your head told you as much.”

Albtraum was taken aback – he had been hoping to unsettle Brunhart, but instead was unsettled himself by Brunhart’s response. He fell silent, avoiding Brunhart’s gaze as they continued forward.

“There’s not likely to be much food left from the guards’ and servants’ mealtime, so I suppose you’ll have your choice of what the kitchens will prepare for you,” Brunhart added.

“I have no preferences. I have never consumed human food,” Albtraum answered abruptly.

Brunhart looked to him with a raised eyebrow. “Ah. I will choose something for you, then.”

Albtraum could smell the scents of food lingering in the halls as they reached the tall archway to the dining hall and stepped inside.

The ceiling was high and there were no windows, casting dim, murky lighting over the hall. There was so much chatter Albtraum couldn't discern any particular words or conversations, and the sounds blended into one another as a collective, constant roar that hung in the air. He didn't think he'd ever been in a place so alive. The air smelled of wood smoke and cooking food.

“I will go and have something prepared for you. I trust you to behave yourself if I leave you here,” Brunhart said to Albtraum as he stepped around him to go to the kitchens. The subtle threat in his voice was readily apparent.

Albtraum stood in the middle of the room as Brunhart left him. He drew many stares from the guards and servants milling about, causing tension to rise in his shoulders. He sat down at the bench of one of the emptier wooden tables, watching the commotion carefully. Gradually, the lingering stares faded as the crowds returned to their activities.

Albtraum’s mind had started to wander when suddenly, something sharply caught him in the back of the head.

His face smashed into the edge of the table - his vision went white and he felt himself fall back, cracking the backside of his head against the hard stone of the floor. As he furiously blinked his vision back, he tried to maneuver himself to stand and face whatever had attacked him, but his legs were caught between the bench and the table.

Someone forcefully planted a knee into the center of his chest and yanked his head up by a fistful of his hair. He snarled and tried to push himself up, blood running into his mouth from his nose.

“I bet you pissed yourself over how clever you thought you were, getting new clothes as if it should make you any less of a monster,” an oddly familiar voice hissed at him. He found himself face-to-face with the woman from the roof, a knife at his throat.

He swung his arm at her, trying to bat her off, but she intercepted him by embedding the knife in his forearm, using his own movement to make a deep gash across his arm.

She drew back and stabbed at his neck again. He felt the knife point just break his skin before someone forcefully hauled her away from him.

“ _Brunhart!_ ” she shrilled, flailing against Brunhart’s grasp. He had lifted her off her feet. “I had him! Let me go!”

Lucifurius was raging, suddenly protective, adding to the already potent pain throbbing through Albtraum's head as he sat up, fading adrenaline leaving him groggy. _Damnable whelp! She will be first to die when we have the necessary strength…_

Brunhart pinned the young woman against the wall as easily if she were a child. “You are endangering your welcome here, Ismaire, attacking a guest of the queen.”

“A _guest?!_ ” the woman, evidently called Ismaire, thrashed more, scrambling for her knife as it fell from her hand and clattered to the floor. “While we're at it, why not let the children play with the forest bears and invite bandits for tea!”

He scowled at her, setting her back on her feet before pointing to the door. “Get out. We will discuss this with the queen later.”

She glared fiercely at him, stooped to retrieve her weapon, and briefly turned her angry gaze on Albtraum before storming out of the hall, several guards following behind her to escort her away.

Albtraum noted how silent it had gone. Everyone was staring. Brunhart waved them off and they slowly regained their earlier volume, turning back to what they had been doing before.

Blood gushed from his nose and the deep gash across his forearm. His head thrummed with ache.

Through the watering of his eyes, he saw Brunhart approach him with a hand extended, which he ignored as he shakily tried to get back on his feet. The older man grumbled and hauled Albtraum up by his uninjured arm.

He stood stiffly as Brunhart looked him over, sighing. “We won't have time for anything else, if we have to keep delivering you to Aleksandra like this. Let us have you seen to, then…”

Brunhart led Albtraum out of the dining hall, keeping a gentle grip on his arm as they walked. Although Albtraum was unnerved by the touch, he found himself leaning into it more than he would like – he was unsteady on his feet, and his head was swimming.

He had been used to combat and injury his whole life, but he suddenly found himself entirely exhausted by it. Though Lucifurius was able to quell some of Albtraum’s pain, he lacked the strength to do anything more.

_We may need to do something about that woman. As much as it would serve us well to gather information here, she clearly cannot be controlled._

Feeling himself trembling slightly, Albtraum all but collapsed on one of the benches in the infirmary as soon as they stepped inside. He felt unsteady on his feet. Brunhart waved the doctor over from where she was handing off a bowl of soup to a recovering patient. Her mouth was screwed to the side, her expression annoyed.

“Can't stay away, can you? It's barely been a day and already you've gotten yourself into a fight.”

“Ismaire again,” Brunhart informed her curtly.

She sighed and shook her head. “Well, I suppose Her Majesty will need to take extra measures to ensure this does not happen again.”

Albtraum audibly winced when Aleksandra touched his nose. He was ashamed with himself, showing such weakness, but the pain had overtaken his stoic facade.

“Broken, I'd wager.” She dabbed at the area around his nose with a damp cloth, cleaning away the blood. “That could leave quite a nasty scar. Not a bad thing, necessarily. The captain here's had his face sliced up pretty good and he's still tolerable to look at.”

Brunhart sighed heavily. “Just tend his injuries, Aleksandra.”

“Suit yourself.” She finished wiping away the blood on Albtraum's face, then suddenly took his nose between her hands and jerked it to the side.

The sharp sensation that followed was far worse than the initial pain of having his nose broken. Dizziness overtook him, such that he felt himself start to slip backwards off the bench. Brunhart caught him and pushed him forward again, and he groaned weakly. His ears were ringing. The sounds in the room sounded far away.

“There, I've set it,” Aleksandra chirped as though it were a simple, painless task. Albtraum’s resentment for her cut through the agony. He was vaguely aware that she had pushed up his sleeve and started to bandage his arm. “Has he had anything to eat?”

“Not that I know of,” Brunhart replied, still holding Albtraum upright.

“Because, generally, I don't have them go this green on me. Glen!”

A soldier who had been guarding the door stepped in. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with messy, mousy brown hair and a slightly uneven beard. “Yes?”

“Get us a plate of food from the kitchen, would you?”

The guard nodded, quickly moving to do as he was told.

“I'm fine, let me go.” Albtraum tried to push Brunhart's arm away, but the captain stood like a statue.

“I don’t believe you’re in any position to judge for yourself, boy,” he sighed in response, sounding more exasperated than angry.

“Good god, and a bleeder to boot.” Aleksandra caught the heavy stream of blood still running from Albtraum’s nose with the damp cloth in her hand. “Hold that there.”

Too dazed to argue, Albtraum did as he was told. She finished the bandages around his arm and lifted the hem of his shirt to check the ones she'd applied the day before to the wound in his gut.

“Bandages need changed.” She stood and retrieved a knife from the table near the door. Lucifurius’ presence bristled with alarm, but Albtraum was far past caring whether someone else was moving to attack him. She cut away the old bandages, and they stung as they peeled from the wound.

Humming an off-key tune, Aleksandra cleaned up the wound and repeated her bandage work. She was not especially gentle, and Albtraum could not help but flinch as she pulled the bandages tight around his waist.

“There, should be good now, eh?” She looked to Brunhart. “Keep him out of trouble this time, will you?”

Brunhart nodded. “Of course.”

The captain finally seemed to trust Albtraum to hold himself upright, and sat down at the bench across from him.

“I don't need you to watch me,” Albtraum huffed, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against his palm, still holding the rag to his nose. Pain thrummed behind his eyes.

Brunhart simply sighed. “I know it must not seem the truth at present, but we are not your enemies, boy.”

Before Albtraum could reply, the guard from the door returned, carrying a platter of food and utensils which he handed off to Brunhart. “Here you are, Captain. They had some lamb and peas left in the kitchens.” He cast Albtraum a sidelong glance before returning to his post at the door.

Brunhart handed over the plate and utensils to Albtraum. “I apologize for Ismaire. We will take steps to ensure she does not have the opportunity to harm you again. You should eat, you don't look well.”

Albtraum looked at him warily. “Why?”’

“The food will help you get back some strength, and—“

“No, I...” Albtraum shook his head, cutting into the slice of meat on the plate. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

Brunhart shifted slightly, leaning back into his seat. “Because someone in our charge did you harm.”

Albtraum looked back at him with suspicion, remaining silent.

“You don’t seem an unintelligent boy, surely you must know something of common courtesy,” Brunhart added with the raise of an eyebrow.

“I don't see how someone like you affords such a thing to someone like me,” Albtraum muttered, poking at the peas with his fork. They were bright and round, and didn’t entirely look like food.

“I’m aware of your reputation, as are the queen and most everyone here. We offer you another chance at a different life than the one you know.”

Albtraum found Brunhart’s presence somewhat intimidating, as though he were looking right through him. He found himself once again missing his mask – having his face exposed still made him feel all too vulnerable.

He’d never considered that another life outside what he knew was possible for one such as himself. He’d never truly considered that there was any other way to live than travelling through the wilderness from village to village, battlefield to battlefield, following Lucifurius’ orders. Alone. Only the two of them, and the world standing against them.

_The life they offer is a lie. A beautiful lie, perhaps, but a lie all the same. Take care not to be lured in by what they offer… They are but empty words, my child. We will always be monsters to them._

Albtraum avoided Brunhart’s gaze for the moment, examining the hunk of meat he'd cut away to eat. He'd been given enough knowledge of human practices from Lucifurius that he knew how humans typically ate, but going through the motions himself felt awkward and unnatural, and Brunhart's attention to him did nothing to help.

He bit the meat from the fork, and chewed, surprised to find that the ravenous emptiness that had overtaken him in the days since he'd last made a kill went away even more quickly in the presence of human food. He cut another piece from the meat, and before he could think much further he was devouring everything he could from the plate, barely bothering to cut it into pieces anymore.

The rich taste of the food and the warmth in his belly was somehow more satisfying than any essence he had obtained from a hunt. Life force from hunting was pure, raw energy, but this seemed oddly less… hollow.

“Careful, now, you'll choke yourself,” Brunhart muttered with the slightest smirk of amusement.

_Poor child. So long without a hunt that you find this inferior human sustenance desirable… We shall need to remedy this soon._

When he'd eaten everything and sat wondering if he should lick the plate clean, Brunhart took it from him. “Have you eaten before?”

“Never,” he replied flatly. His hunger had been sated, but he was still debating on whether or not to ask for another plate.

“Well, you must have been hungry, then.” Brunhart’s tone had softened. “I’ll inform the queen of what’s happened. You should take the remainder of the day to rest. I have other duties, but there will be other guards and servants nearby to assist you with anything you should need.”

As Albtraum was led back to his room, he could not help but withdraw from Lucifurius, his mind lingering over what Brunhart had said. He had been here but a short day… And he’d been looked after, fed, made comfortable, and treated as an equal by the queen. Lucifurius’ conquest, once a close and attainable goal, now seemed far-off, too much a fantasy to consider with any degree of seriousness.

Albtraum was conflicted.

Mostly, he decided, he really only wanted something more to eat.


	8. Chapter VII

Ismaire Uemytlach had never been accustomed to following orders.

And Mianna had been ordering her around like a child lately, this latest occurrence being no exception. What the hell did Mianna think she was doing? When she had showed up after Ismaire knocked the wanted murderer off the roof, telling her she would take care of it, Ismaire certainly hadn't expected she'd meant she was going to keep him alive. Even less so that she was going to take him in treat him as an honored guest, guarded escort and all.

Her hands clenched and unclenched, and she fiddled with her sleeves and pulled at her hair, sitting down at the desk. After attacking the daemon in the dining hall, she’d been sent to her quarters, forbidden to leave. That morning, she had awoken to a summons to see Mianna in her office. She’d been waiting there for quite some time for Mianna to arrive. She was anxious, and having a murdering madman in her house did not sit well with her.

The door of the office opened and Mianna stepped in, irritation barely showing through her poise. Ismaire sat back in the chair, trying to straighten herself out.

“You mind telling me what the hell possessed you to take a murderer into your home, Mianna?” she snapped before Mianna could say anything.

Mianna shut the door and stepped in, staring her down, hard and dangerous. “I'll thank you not to take that tone with me, Ismaire. I have chosen to allow you to be my ward and work alongside the guard force rather than locking you away, but you are still in my charge and my debt.”

“And as someone in your charge I'd like to know why you expect me to stand idly by as you allow someone like _him_ into--”

“Unbelievable as you might find it, Ismaire, we've actually spent a great deal of time looking for him, trying to follow the rumors, hoping they would lead us to him. It's nothing short of miraculous that he's turned up on our doorstep.”

Ismaire scoffed. “Miraculous... Right.”

Mianna stood straighter, eyes narrowing. She was a good deal shorter than Ismaire, but that hadn't ever stopped her presence from being intimidating. “I do not expect you to understand, Ismaire. We are not equals and I do not discuss my business matters with you.”

“Mianna, are you not aware of what he's done, exactly? He's killed hundreds, and that's only the ones we're aware of. _Hundreds_ of innocents, Mianna. Probably _thousands_.”

“You think I do not follow the events happening in our world, Ismaire?” Mianna's posture had slightly relaxed, and she regarded Ismaire haughtily.

“I'm saying it seems rather odd you'd actually seek out a vicious murderer, Mianna. Someone who's probably killed children, in our ranks.”

“He is not the picture of morality, no. But the stories say he's never killed a child, Ismaire. The rumors had to come from somewhere, you know... And what do you consider worse? Killing a child? Orphaning them? Or taking them from their families in the dead of night and loading them onto a boat to be shipped far away from their homes and sold into a life of torturous slavery? Personally, I find them equally distasteful.”

Ismaire opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut, feeling her chest tighten. “That was not necessary, Mianna.”

Mianna raised an eyebrow at her. “I believe it was. If you lay a hand on him again, I will rescind my previous generosity, and you will be imprisoned.” She turned back to the door. “I gave you a chance to better yourself with us, Ismaire. And I have been feeling more and more that you take that for granted.”

Ismaire huffed as Mianna stepped out, shutting the door behind her. Feeling incensed, Ismaire sat fuming for a moment until Mianna’s footsteps faded from earshot and then stood, storming out the door and making her way to the staircase to the second floor. Really, what could Mianna be thinking? Ismaire had never known her to do anything this foolish. She had always been a very smart woman, and for the most part all of the decisions Ismaire had seen her make only served to further prove that. But this… This was madness.

If Mianna wasn’t going to do anything about this, Ismaire would have to take matters into her own hands.

She rounded the corner and rushed up the stairs to the guest quarters. She figured Mianna must be keeping the daemon there, if she wanted him safe. Perhaps there was something she could do to break whatever spell he’d put on Mianna…

Only one guard stood in the hall of guest rooms, and he was a trainee. Ismaire could tell from the way he stood. Nervous, timid. His face still held the chubbiness of youth and his hair flopped across his forehead in messy curls.

“Hey!”

He glanced over at her, eyes wide.

“Is the murdering bastard in here?” She leaned against the door, causing his eyes to widen even more and his grip to tighten on his sword.

“Miss, I've been given orders not to...” He mumbled meekly, but Ismaire held up a hand to silence him.

“Oh, it's fine. I'm not going to hurt him.” She removed her weapon belt, laden with throwing knives, and thrust it into the guard's hands before stepping into the room. There was the daemon, nestled into the downy bed and buried beneath a velvet duvet.

He was sleeping. Sleeping! She scoffed, kicking the bedpost nearest to his head. “Bonehead! Wake up, I need to have a chat with you.”

He groaned, peeking out from under the duvet. She hadn't gotten a good look at him until now – even with the ugly gash across his nose from where she'd smashed it into the table, he was a looker. She knew something about this had seemed odd. Manipulating Mianna with his pretty face, more than likely. He blinked at her, looking confused.

“You sure sleep soundly for a murderer, you know that?” She leaned in closer. “I don't know what your game is. This doesn't seem like your style. You're more the 'kill anything that moves' type, I didn't think you were smart enough for something like this – but you're in my city now, and if you step out of line at all – I mean if you _breathe_ in the wrong direction…”

The daemon glared at her, the sharpness of the expression slightly blunted by the way he winced at the pain from his nose. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, like you don't--”

“Ismaire!”

She turned, finding Brunhart standing at the door, staring her down with steel in his gaze. The squirrelly young guard stood behind him, still holding Ismaire's weapon belt. She growled.

“Look, I didn't touch him! All Mianna said was that I couldn't touch him. And I didn't!”

“This is not what she meant and you know that, Ismaire.”

“Does he have his claws in you too, Brunhart? I feel like I'm going mad, here, when a murderer has protected status and everyone is acting like nothing is wrong.”

“You are not involved in Mianna's political business, you are her ward, which means you also answer to me. Out.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fine! Let him in! You'll all wake up with knives in your backs!” She grabbed her belt from the guard and stormed back out to the staircase, grumbling curses under her breath.

She reached the end of the hallway, away from where anyone could see or hear her, and let out a stifled cry, falling back against the wall and gripping her head tightly in her hands.

She would not let him harm this place. She could not.

She would stop him whether Mianna believed her or not.

* * *

 

Albtraum rose from the bed, still reeling from his sudden and startling awakening. Tension from Lucifurius wound itself deep into his chest – there had been far too many close encounters in such a short span of time.

_I am only glad the others seem not to take her words to heart… She clearly will never believe our deception._

“Once again, I apologize. I will ensure we have a more adequate guard force set up at your door.” Brunhart sighed, directing Albtraum’s attention back to him. He was carrying something at his side – something covered in fur.

Albtraum watched the fuzzy, writhing thing in the crook of Brunhart's arm warily. It was burrowed against him tightly enough that Albtraum wasn't entirely sure what it was – vermin, maybe, perhaps this was some bizarre part of human meals…

But Brunhart moved to hand it to him, and he stared.

“What is this?” Albtraum asked flatly, raising an eyebrow.

“The dog the servants keep in the kitchen had a litter of pups,” he replied matter-of-factly. “The children have all had their pick of them, but they passed this one over. He's got a mean streak, evidently. I thought you two would get along.”

Brunhart passed the tiny animal over into Albtraum’s open arms, and Albtraum was left suddenly unsure of what to do with the squirming, growling thing in his hands. Growling, of course, was a generous way to describe it – the pup was so tiny every sound it made was a squeak, laughable rather than intimidating.

Albtraum looked back up to Brunhart for an explanation, and he nodded to the pup. “I thought you might like something to occupy your time while you settle in. It will probably be some time before the queen trusts you enough to move forward, you’ll need something to amuse you and keep you company.”

 _A small and weak life force such as this will be all but worthless to us,_ Lucifurius informed Albtraum with disappointment. _Still, such a helpless waste of breath. Crush it as soon as you have the chance._

Albtraum hesitated at Lucifurius’ suggestion, feeling that perhaps this was some sort of test, a trial of his humanity. He knew that humans often kept dogs as pets, and if he were to kill it, he would likely only further perpetuate his reputation as a monster.

The pup was warm and soft, with a fat belly and a coat of patchwork colors – rust red and brown and white – like fallen leaves, late in the autumn, when the snow had just begun to cover the deadfall.

Albtraum hissed and sharply drew back one hand as the pup clamped down on his finger with needle-sharp teeth. He grumbled at it, but found his ire hard to hold as it whimpered and wiggled into the crook of his arm.

Brunhart chuckled. “I did warn you about the mean streak.”

Lucifurius seemed conflicted, pleased that they were gaining the trust of their enemies, yet finding the lengths they were made to go to detestable. A slight shame prickled at the back of Albtraum’s neck as he considered his own feelings toward their predicament – he was not as eager to escape as he perhaps should have been, enticed by the promise of more new experiences to slake his growing curiosity about the world of humans.

“I’d like something to eat,” Albtraum interjected suddenly as he was struck by his own hunger.

_What? You should have told me if you were this starved… I am sure there is something I can do to arrange a hunt for us, so you will not be forced to stoop to the indignity of human sustenance._

Brunhart seemed to be taken aback by the sudden nature of Albtraum’s statement, but turned back to face him. “Well, it has been some time since your last meal. I’ll take you now, if you like.”

Albtraum held the pup at his side and hurried to pull on his boots, trying to ignore Lucifurius’ frustrations. Though he insisted on going hunting, Albtraum feared it would be too much of a risk with so many eyes on them. The guard captain seemed accepting enough, but Albtraum was not fool enough to wonder why the man had spent so much time hovering around him – he was keeping careful eyes on him.

Lucifurius settled into quiet displeasure as Albtraum followed along behind Brunhart towards the kitchen. _Admirable as it is that you wish to ensure the success of our task, you must hunt soon, lest your strength fades any further._

By the time they reached the kitchens, the pup was all too happy to be let down to the floor. It flopped on its belly, sniffing at Albtraum’s boots as he looked around the kitchens. They were wide and bright, clean countertops of light wood and marble shining in the sunlight that poured in from the tall windows. The room was warmed by the heat of the stoves, and the smell of cooking food permeated the air. The attention of the servants was directed to the doorway as Brunhart entered.

One young woman quickly scurried over, curtsying before Brunhart, her gaze darting to Albtraum for the briefest moment. “Lord Captain, what can I do for you?”

“I'm aware that we are between mealtimes, but this young man is rather a bit behind on a reasonable meal schedule and needs something to eat. Do you have anything?”

The woman nodded. “We have some peirogi and onions in the pan right now he can have, if that is suitable.”

“I believe that should suffice.”

Albtraum watched the pup crawl around his ankles, gnawing at the toe of one of his boots. It was a strange little creature, but Albtraum could not help but find it somewhat amusing.

Brunhart moved to sit at one of the counters, watching Albtraum as he gazed around the kitchen. The smell of the food in the air was enticing, and hunger had twisted his stomach into knots.

Someone had left something on the table, a vegetable of some sort, round and cut in half. It was white and shiny, almost iridescent. Albtraum’s hunger was so great that without lending much thought to it, he picked it up and bit into it.

The pungent taste was strong enough to burn, so much that Albtraum felt his eyes tear up and his nose burn with pain all over again. It hurt to eat, but he was so hungry he couldn't stop, he kept eating in spite of the searing pain.

When he glanced up, Brunhart was staring at him. “You don't need to eat that, boy. They'll have real food out in a moment. An onion is not exactly edible until it's been cooked in some way. You'll see when they've finished the pierogi.”

Albtraum stared at the onion with vitriol for a moment, and set it on the table with a defeated sigh.

_All the more reason we must hunt. Human sustenance is needlessly complex._

Although Albtraum knew Lucifurius spoke the truth, the plate the kitchen workers set in front of him was infinitely more attractive than a killing spree at the present moment. A pile of small dough pockets was piled on the plate and drizzled with what looked to be cream and butter, surrounded by crisped bits of what he assumed was the onion he'd taken a bite from. On the floor, they placed a bowl of meat trimmings, which the pup quickly took note of and began eating.

He took the fork they handed him and started eating, more than a little surprised at how good the mysterious pockets of dough tasted, browned in the butter and filled with some sort of soft, crumbled cheese. He'd scarcely had time to notice himself devouring them before half the plate was gone.

“You eat like you've never seen food,” Brunhart observed, “and sleep like you've never had a moment to rest.”

Albtraum shook his head. “I haven't,” he huffed between bites. He was beginning to feel self-conscious, everyone here looked at him and questioned him as though he were some infinitely rare and interesting specimen of fauna, and he feared his ruse may not last under such intense scrutiny.

He stopped eating abruptly, spitting out the bite he'd taken, somewhat surprised at the unpleasant taste he'd encountered. This particular peirogi had not been filled with the mild, savory cheese but with something starchy and slightly bitter. He examined it and then looked to Brunhart for an explanation.

“Something wrong?” Brunhart asked.

“This one tastes...” He grimaced. “Terrible.”

Brunhart raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to look when Albtraum pushed the plate towards him. “Ah, that's potato. Often times they'll run out of cheese to use and have to fill them with something else.

Albtraum sighed and pulled the plate back to finish off the last few left, though he had found his appetite had dissipated and he continued mostly out of obligation.

When he’d eaten everything, he returned his attention to the pup at his feet, licking at the last bits of food in the bowl that had been set out for it. It looked up at him, tiny tail wagging slightly as their eyes met. Albtraum sighed, unable to muster any contempt for the tiny thing.

_If you truly find the creature so amusing, perhaps I might take exception…_

Albtraum was quietly pleased to receive allowance from Lucifurius, and knelt down from his seat to sit with the pup on the floor. It waddled into his lap, yawning and resting its head on his knee.

“What will you name him?” Brunhart’s voice sounded behind Albtraum, startling him.

Albtraum floundered for an answer. “I…” He was unsure what names one might even give to a dog, and toyed with words in his head for a moment.

“…Renegade,” he finally answered, hoping the answer would be enough to free him from the question.

Brunhart nodded. “Good name. Be sure you use it when you speak to him, so he learns.”

Albtraum stood, lifting the newly-named Renegade in his arms. He knew he would soon be taken back to his room – a comfortable prison, but a prison all the same. If he was to find a way to hunt, finding some way to escape those bonds was paramount.

“Surely this creature is not the only thing I am expected to amuse myself with,” he said, his voice low but firm.

The slight smile of Brunhart’s expression hardened back into a stoic and unexpressive scowl. “For the time being, yes. But if you find boredom that unbearable, we will try to have the queen arrange something more for you to do.”

Albtraum was almost glad for Brunhart’s immediate shift in tone – back to suspicion and steeliness, rather than cautious patience. As much as Albtraum wanted to delve into this world, familiarity would leave him more exposed. He could not afford any interactions to move beyond that veil.

_Intriguing as their offerings may be, you can never be a part of this world. They will not allow it. The only world you will ever belong to is a world with you and I, and nothing more._

For what may have been the first time in his life, Albtraum no longer found this thought particularly comforting.


	9. Chapter VIII

As Mianna opened the heavy wooden door of her office, she could not help but frown at the glittering cloud of dust that greeted her, lit up by the rays of sun that filtered in through the windows. Her office had fallen into a state of neglect of late, but she could not abide the servants disrupting the careful arrangement of her documents and books, and so, the dust was left to accumulate.

She brushed a few escaped curls of hair from her face and stepped around the desk, thumbing through some of the papers she had left out to be attended to. Her mind had been flooded with nebulous planning, and now that more pieces had begun to fall into place, her usual daily work had fallen by the wayside. There was a part of her that relished the chaos and the newness of it all – more than a hundred years in power certainly made for plenty of chances for boredom to fester.

Still, the state of her office nagged at the back of her mind, and she made note to bring a rag to take care of some of the dust.

A sharp rap on the open door caught Mianna’s attention, drawing her gaze to two guards standing there, waiting to be addressed. They were the commanders of the guard force, and both answered to Brunhart. For them to have come directly to her indicated a matter of grave importance, which was further confirmed by their tense stances and somber expressions.

“Commander Bashkir, Commander Kaminski, what have you to report?”

Kalen Bashkir, commander of the cavalry, was first to step forward. He had worked in Mianna’s service for the majority of his life, and had gone all gray in the last decade, but for a few reddish patches across the stubble on his chin. He had been a brash young man when Mianna had first taken him into her service, but the years had blunted his harsh voice and withered his frame. He had been openly considering retirement in the recent months.

“Ill tidings, I am sad to say, Your Majesty,” Kalen replied, dipping his head in greeting.” Three of the guards posted along the roads outside the city were killed in the night. Their replacements discovered them this morning when they arrived for their work.”

Disturbed, Mianna set down the papers in her hand. “Three, you say?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Mianna frowned deeply. Her guards were well-trained men, and for a death to occur along a guard route was almost unheard of, even with the occasional unruly bandits making their way out of the forests. Three deaths certainly made cause for alarm. “I trust you’ve left the location as you found it so that a proper inquiry can be made.”

Kalen nodded. “Well as we could, Your Majesty. Shall we have Captain Frasch investigate?”

She sighed and shook her head, grabbing a thick fur-lined cloak from where it hung on a rack near the door, wrapping it around her shoulders before stepping out of the office and into the hallway. “He is attending to other matters. I shall ride down to the road to see for myself what transpired.”

Dimitri Kaminski, the infantry commander, stepped forward. He was a great deal younger than Kalen, but gray had begun to touch the edges of his dark beard. “I shall question the other guards along the route to determine if they noted anything amiss in the night.”

Kalen nodded his agreement. “Aye, and I shall escort you out of the city, Majesty.”

“Thank you, Kalen, Dimitri.”

Dimitri gave a quick bow before hurrying off to fulfill his task, and Kalen followed alongside Mianna as they briskly made their way down to the stables.

“What is the Captain preoccupied with this day, if I may ask?” Kalen inquired, offering his arm as they passed the gates. Mianna accepted, amused by surfacing memories of times long ago when a young Kalen had attempted rather desperately to win her affections. Though he had long since married a woman from the village and raised a family of his own, fleeting flirtations occasionally persisted.

“He is attending to our guest. Though I believe Albtraum will behave himself once properly influenced, he has left quite the trail of corpses in his wake even in the short four years since his awakening, and the being he houses is frightfully powerful. I would not wish to place any of my men in unnecessary danger, especially not now that we seem to face another threat.

Kalen gave a nod of understanding. “Ah, of course. The Captain is much sturdier than the rest of us.”

The air was crisp and cold on their route to the stables to retrieve horses, and Mianna found that the chill pleasantly did away with the last bits of early morning fatigue that still clung to her. The horses seemed eager to be taken out when they arrived at the stables, taking off at a brisk trot once they had been saddled and mounted.

The townspeople watched attentively as Mianna and Kalen rode past, some stopping to briefly bow. It was a quiet morning, and a sense of peace blanketed the streets of the city. That peace faded into tension as they passed the gates and encountered the full force of the guard scattered along the borders of the city and the road that lead down the mountain. News of the sudden deaths of their comrades had shaken them, no doubt.

When they reached the guard post at the edge of the forest, Mianna noted the large gathering that had formed around the section of road where the incident had occurred, the murdered guards still lying where they’d fallen. A thin dusting of snow had settled over the bodies, but the bright color of the blood across the snow was no less visible.

Kalen was first to dismount his horse and quickly helped Mianna down from her own. She pulled her cloak more tightly around herself as she made her way closer to the center of the gathering, guards parting to allow her to pass with a bow of their heads.

Only one young guard stood fast, blocking her way. “Your Majesty, I would advise you leave this to us, I am afraid the scene is quite ghastly—“

Mianna imperiously motioned the young man aside, and he scurried out of her way. “I am quite certain I can withstand it. Stand aside.”

The three men had been killed in quick succession – the first two did not appear to have had the chance to retaliate, as their weapons had not even been drawn. Footprints, covered over with new snow but still visible, led up to the first guard, whose throat had been slit. They did not lead to the second body, but straight past to the last guard.

Mianna looked over the second body, and a guard approached behind her. “Seems to have been a gunshot, Your Majesty.”

“That would explain the path of the footprints,” Mianna muttered, leaning in to look closer. The dead guard had been shot directly through the eye, leaving a bloody, mangled hole. Long ago, being confronted with something of this nature might have unsettled her, but the years had hardened her to such sights.

The last man had managed to fight back, made evident by the bloodied sword in the snow next to him. His throat had been slit as well, but far less cleanly than the first, a clear sign of resistance. The footprints of the assailant veered off into the forest, along with a heavy trail of blood. Mianna followed it, carefully examining what was left in the snow. The footsteps appeared unsteady, limping… until they suddenly righted themselves, and the blood trail disappeared.

“Has there been any sign of the assailant?” Mianna asked, turning back to face the group of guards gathered around the scene.

One man shook his head. “None, Your Majesty. These men were hours dead by the time we discovered them. None of the guards further along the road reported seeing anyone pass by during the night. We’ve thought perhaps a group came up through the woods, but there don’t seem to be enough footprints…”

Mianna made her way back to the road, stepping carefully around the bodies. “No, I believe the murderer acted alone.” She was troubled by what the evidence seemed to suggest – a single assailant, powerful enough to fell three men and escape despite being wounded, leaving a blood trail that faded far too quickly for how grave the bloodstains suggested the wound to be.

She let out a tense breath, looking into the darkness of the thick woods down the mountain, the footprints disappearing into it.

“Have the bodies removed, and see to it the men’s families are notified,” Mianna instructed Kalen as she returned to the path to mount her horse. “Double the guards along the road and at the city gate.”

Kalen looked to her with concern as she stepped up into the saddle of her horse. “Need we prepare for conflict, Your Majesty?”

Mianna shook her head. “No, and it would be best to do away with such thoughts, lest we cause undue alarm. I must see to the arrangements for the families of these men, and tend to important business matters. Please do ensure things run smoothly from here, Kalen, and notify me if anything requiring my attention should arise.”

Kalen bowed his head. “As you will, Your Majesty.”

Mianna set off on the steep climb back up the mountain, her mount ambling along at a labored pace. She was troubled, her brow furrowing as she considered what she’d seen – all the markings of the murders pointed to an immortal assailant, and a message directly targeted at her.

Mianna’s political rivalries were brutal and bloody – the deaths of three men, while they had certainly shaken their comrades, were little more than a formality in the realm of those with the same power she possessed. Given that this had occurred so soon after she had taken in Albtraum suggested that one of her peers disapproved of her actions. The warning, in her mind, was clear as day.

Still, determining where it had come from would prove no easy task. Any one of her peers could have orchestrated such a thing – there were some she suspected more, but with the unity of the Order growing more tenuous by the day, none could be ruled out.

Mianna made her way back into the city, leaving her horse with the guards at the gate of the estate to be led back to the stables. Stepping back into the warmth of the estate walls was a welcome relief, but it could not quell the racing of her thoughts. She had much to consider, but the murders were too fresh in her mind for a clear perspective.

She quickly scaled the steps and made her way back through the halls to her office, finding them empty until she reached the office door. Brunhart stood outside, his stony expression revealing nothing.

“Brunhart,” she said in greeting, slowing to a stop before him. “I trust you have been informed of what happened.”

He gave a single nod. “I know that Albtraum had no involvement. I guarded the guest hall myself last night.”

Mianna sighed. “I did not suspect him. The evidence seems to point elsewhere – but the direction is no less troubling, I am afraid.”

Brunhart’s tense brow relaxed slightly, if only for a moment. “I suppose it must involve our allies, then.”

“Yes, but I have no clear leads as to which. For now, I must assume that none outside of Sylva can be trusted, though my trust was certainly wanting to begin with.” Realizing she was speaking her thoughts aloud, Mianna shook her head. “No matter. I shall tend to this in greater depth later. While on the subject of Albtraum, how fares our guest?”

“Well enough,” Brunhart answered simply. “He seems to be at least somewhat receptive to working with us.” He followed her as she stepped into the office. “He is quite a bit younger than we'd expected.”

She considered that for a moment as she sat down at her desk. “Not terribly so.”

Brunhart sighed. “His voice still breaks. His practical knowledge of the world seems limited. Take care in your interactions with him, that is all I mean to say.”

“Duly noted, Brunhart,” Mianna answered with a nod.

“He does seem restless,” Brunhart added absentmindedly, sitting down in the chair opposite Mianna.

Mianna gave a soft chuckle. “I can imagine. There is only so long he can be expected to stand being confined to that room, passed between the kitchens and infirmary when he is not. I suppose I can meet with him to discuss more of our plans, since he has behaved himself thus far. He’ll need new clothes made if he is to be making any appearances before the people – I will have Joaquin see to the arrangements.”

“New clothes will not tame his wildness, nor change what the people think of him,” Brunhart pointed out, a slight breath of exasperation surrounding his words.

“Perhaps not,” Mianna answered, “But Joaquin will certainly aim to try.”

Brunhart stood again from the chair slowly, looking back to the door. “I should address the men about what’s happened. Is there any particular message you wish me to deliver?”

Mianna considered what to say. Conflict was imminent, and no matter how much she tried to shield her people from that fact, they would know something was amiss, they would feel the rising tension in the air. Announcing it would cause panic, but she could not simply ignore the possibilities looming over them.

She turned, gazing out the window down at the city. It was beautiful, even from so far away. The streets were clean and orderly, and the buildings were always kept in good repair. The people of the city were proud to call it their home, and Mianna was as well. It stood proud and strong on the face of the mountain, a paragon of all the Order should be.

And yet, it had not always been this way. When Mianna had first taken the throne, the city had been drained dry of its life and resources, a broken and tired place with little loyalty to king or kingdom.

She had worked hard to gain their trust. She had taken steps into the mire of humanity, much farther than she thought herself capable, all for the sake of this place and these people. She had become as hard and sharp as a keenly honed blade, and as she had given up pieces of her own humanity in pursuit of her kingdom’s greatness, it was as if life had been restored to the city.

Pride and resolve had seen them through much. It would see them through this as well.

“Three men died honorably for their kingdom, and we mourn their loss. However, any enemy who believes that the deaths of three men will in any way intimidate Sylva or its people is sorely mistaken.”

As Brunhart exited the office with a nod, Mianna carefully dug through the piles on her desk for a parchment and quill.

The world had begun to move. And she had no choice but to move with it.


	10. Chapter IX

_I tire of human trivialities._

Albtraum found himself in agreement with Lucifurius as he was twisted around for what must have been the thousandth time by the tailors Mianna had sent for him. The girls had been hovering around him for the better part of an hour, seeming rather uneasy as they took their measurements, scrawling them on a piece of parchment and speaking in hushed tones to one another. It had been late in the afternoon when they’d first arrived, and they were working solely by lanternlight now.

He watched them with suspicion, which only seemed to heighten their uneasiness as they circled him. Albtraum sat defensively, his knees pressed together, his arms held firmly at his side until he was prodded to stand and pose to be measured. He had no earthly idea why so many measurements were needed for simple clothes. Renegade watched the spectacle curiously, shying away when the tailors tried to approach him.

Just as Albtraum was beginning to think this might go on forever, the door burst open and a man laden with armfuls of fabric bustled in, sending the group of tailors scattering.

He was a swirl of vibrant colors, from the many materials he carried to the ornate golden doublet he wore, open nearly halfway down his chest, and a deep red sash looped about his waist. Short waves of auburn hair framed his face, with a striking streak of white that started at his hairline with a single strand of hair and continued all down one side of his face, through his eyebrow, eyelashes, and beard – as though lightning had struck him there. His skin was dark, and his eyes were a bright, piercing blue. He was surveying the tailors as they rolled up their measuring tape and wrote down the last of the measurements they'd taken.

The man laid out the fabrics on the table at the head of the room and took the tools from the girls as they scurried out of the room. He turned on his heel to face Albtraum, pointedly asking, “You are Albtraum, I assume?” His voice carried the slight lilt of a foreign accent, but Albtraum could not place it.

He had an air of disdain about him, giving a tiny sigh of exasperation, when Albtraum only nodded in response. “My name is Joaquin Harlan. You'll see me here quite often, as I assist the queen with most of her day-to-day responsibilities. I'll be providing you with a new set of clothes.” He gently took Albtraum by the arm to turn him around. “Your appearance is, quite frankly, unacceptable, and you're so tall I doubt we'll have anything already made that will fit you.”

Albtraum frowned and shifted his weight between his feet, feeling somewhat awkward, unsure of how to respond.

Joaquin looked up at him, scowling deeply. “What's happened to your face?” He took Albtraum by the chin to examine the gash across his nose better. “This is positively tragic. It may even scar... And you have such nice skin.”

Albtraum sighed slightly, just through his nose, finding that it still stung even after the swelling had gone down and he could breathe normally again, for the most part. “That woman… Ismaire… she smashed my face against a table.”

Joaquin grumbled in disgust, patting his cheek before turning back to the table. “Stay far away from that one. Despite our best efforts she seems intent on remaining _thoroughly_ uncivilized.”

He made his way over to the vanity, turning over the mirror so it no longer faced the wall. Albtraum watched him closely as he poured a bit of water into the washbasin from the pitcher the servants had brought in that morning, his curled moustache quirking to the side with his mouth as he tested the water with a touch.

“Well, it’s not terribly warm anymore, but it shall have to do. Come here,” Joaquin ordered, pointing at the stool in front of the vanity.

No sooner had Albtraum cautiously stepped over and sat down than he was suddenly shoved headlong into the washbasin, Joaquin pouring cold water over Albtraum’s head as he furiously scrubbed a bar of soap through the tangled, dirty snarls of his hair.

“How long,” Albtraum heard him hiss, “has it been?”

Albtraum gurgled incoherently, but his voice rose at the end as if in question.

“Since you had a _bath_ ,” Joaquin clarified.

The soapy water stung as it dripped down from his forehead onto the gash across his face – but that was only the beginning of the torment. _“Stop,”_ Albtraum croaked. “ _Soap. Soap in my eyes.”_ His eyes wrenched shut and his jaw clenched.

Joaquin scoffed. “Good. They were likely filthy as well.”

The torment continued for some time, Albtraum gripping the edges of the vanity as Joaquin scrubbed away, occasionally letting out a huff of disgust.

The remainder of the frigid water from the pitcher was then dumped over Albtraum’s head, rinsing away the last of the suds. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he found himself staring down at a washbasin filled with water that was gray with filth, and so opaque he could not see the bottom of the shallow vessel.

Before Albtraum could grimace at the sight, he was pulled back by the hair, yelping in pain as a comb was dragged through its many mats and tangles. He snarled, gripping the sides of the chair – he had faced pain in many forms throughout his life, often at the end of a blade, and yet this experience was somehow more difficult to bear.

After what seemed an eternity of labored ripping and pulling through the knots, the comb finally passed easily through the strands. Albtraum huffed, glaring back at Joaquin, finding the odd man looking infuriatingly pleased with himself.

“There now, you’ll still need a proper bathing, but it’s a start.” He motioned Albtraum’s gaze toward the mirror, and Albtraum blinked owlishly back at the clearest reflection he had ever seen of himself.

He had caught passing glances of himself reflected in standing water and glass windows, but they had been distorted and dim, nothing like the stark reflection of the silvery mirror. His face was thin, set with wide orange eyes that glinted in the dim light, dappled with freckles, and… Entirely softer and gentler than he had expected.

He frowned. Behind his skull mask, he had imagined himself a fearsome creature, but the face looking back at him from the mirror was surprisingly human. Even the shallow gash and dark bruising across his face only served to make him look more pitiful and weak.

“Underneath all that, your hair is a lovely color,” Joaquin commented, smoothing out the last damp, unruly strands with the comb before crossing the room again.

Albtraum sighed, slumping in the chair. His scalp ached from the vigorous brushing, but the feeling of clean, untangled hair was undeniably pleasant.

_If they would prefer us to be well groomed when we bring this kingdom crawling to its belly, then so be it. You will be resplendent either way._

 “I've brought some different materials for you to choose from,” Joaquin called from where he stood, spreading the fabrics out across the table.

Albtraum curiously made his way over to the dresser, examining the materials suspiciously. There were so many colors… More colors than he had ever seen in one place. The hues were rich and deep, some of the fabrics smooth and solid, others intricately patterned with filigree and floral designs. Gingerly, he ran his fingertips across the surfaces of the materials, finding that each one was softer than anything he'd worn.

Of all the many colors, he found himself repeatedly drawn to a velvety material of a paler blue. He could not place why, but he found the color appealing.

He picked it up and handled it for a moment before handing it to Joaquin, who seemed confused by the action.

“Favor this one, do you?” Joaquin asked, prompting Albtraum to nod again. “You don't speak much,” he observed.

“I don't have much to say,” Albtraum muttered.

Joaquin picked up the parchment left by his assistants, looking over the measurements that had been made. “The good-looking ones usually don't.”

Albtraum eyed Joaquin with suspicion, feeling somehow that he was being mocked.

“It'll be at least a day or two before my assistants and I can have anything newly made, so I will have to have something close to these measurements sent along to you.” Joaquin gathered the fabrics and stepped over to the door, opening it and motioning in the guard who stood outside. “In the meantime, Dimitri here will see you to the bathhouse, so you can make yourself decent for a proper audience with the Queen. I will have the servants deliver the clothes and linens to you there.”

As Albtraum was ushered into the hall and the door shut behind him, he could hear Renegade try to rush after him, the pup's claws skittering across the stone floor as he dashed for the door, whimpering pathetically. Albtraum was reluctant to leave him there, but he did not seem to have a choice in the matter.

Joaquin glanced back at the door before turning to the other guard who stood ready in the hallway. “Glen, watch after the dog, will you?”

Albtraum glanced at the young man. Messy curls of mousy hair flopped over his forehead, and he seemed surprised to have been addressed directly. Albtraum had seen him before in the infirmary.

“Ah, of course!” he replied with a wide smile. “Does he have a name?”

 “…Renegade,” Albtraum answered as his escort began to lead him down the hall.

“I could never come up with such an interesting name for anything,” the guard, who had been addressed as Glen, replied with a laugh. “You should hear the names I give my horses.”

Albtraum simply looked uncomfortably back at him as he was briskly led away.

Joaquin disappeared in the other direction, and the stern-faced guard marched behind Albtraum, a strong hand resting on the blade at his waist. His tension was palpable.

_Clever man._

Despite Lucifruius’ amusement, Albtraum found himself somewhat offended at this blatant distrust. If he truly was supposed to be a guest, he expected the guards should take at least some care to hide their fear of him.

When they reached the end of the hallway, they stood before a great wooden door. Dimitri pushed it open and stood aside, sending thick billows of steam spilling into the hallway. Inside the large room was a bath, set into the stone floor. The bath itself was massive – it reached almost to the edges of the room.

Albtraum carefully stepped inside and the door was quietly shut behind him, leaving him alone in the eerily silent expanse of the bathhouse. He crossed to the other side of the room and undressed, feeling exposed though there was no one to look upon him. He left his clothes in a heap on the edge of the bath, kneeling and climbing into the hot water.

The sensation burned a bit at first, new and sharp, the water coming to just above his waist. But as he sat on the stone ledge against the edge of the bath, the temperature of the water gradually became pleasant, rather than uncomfortable. It felt especially soothing to his feet, which still ached from the ill-fitting boots he had been wearing for so long.

There were nooks carved into the stone at the edge of the bath, where Albtraum found bars of soap. They smelled faintly sweet, and he took one and began to scrub away at the dried blood from the blisters and the dirt caked on his feet. The bandages around his abdomen soaked quickly from the water, but they were wound tight, and remained in place.

He finished scrubbing away at the rest of himself with the soap bar, rinsing his hair out again for good measure, if even just to warm the dampened strands that had grown cold in the chilled air.

After he'd rinsed off, surrounded by scattered suds floating around him, he sank into the warm water, all the way up to his chin, his eyes sliding shut as he felt relaxed for the first time in weeks – the heat of the water had eased the constant tension in his shoulders and his back, and if not for Lucifurius’ occasional hums of displeasure at his complacency, he might have fallen asleep there.

He should have remained more alert, he knew. Death lurked at every corner in this place. But he was so very exhausted, and this respite was too tempting to resist.

“Giselle, come to deliver something, have we? Or were you simply here to admire our guest?”

The sound of a voice ringing out, cutting through the heavy silence of the bathhouse, followed by a high gasp of surprise, sent Albtraum quickly backing against the edge of the bath, cursing his vulnerable state as his eyes darted to the open door of the bathhouse.

A servant girl stood there, arms full of linens and clothes. She was turned facing someone who had entered the bathhouse behind her – Mianna, dressed in silk nightclothes, covered by a deep blue robe.

“Y-your Majesty,” the girl stammered, quickly bowing her head. “I was…”

“There now, you can be on your way. Albtraum would like to be left alone, I’m sure. I’ll take those.” Mianna accepted the stack of neatly folded cloth, and the servant scurried away, partly shutting the door behind her.

Albtraum watched Mianna circle the edge of the bath to set the clothes and linens near him. He sank deeper into the water, as though that might offer him more protection. Lucifurius waited, coiled and ready to strike.

“Please, don't let me stop you,” Mianna said. There was a laugh in her tone. “You seem to have become quite the subject of talk among my servants.”

Albtraum frowned, turning away from her. “Your servants must not encounter much of interest.”

Annoyingly, his lack of manners again failed to offend her. “I simply came to look in on you and see that all your needs are being adequately tended to. I would also like to extend an invitation for an audience. Will you dine with me tomorrow?”

He peered up at her blankly. What did she expect him to do? Come alive with enthusiasm? Decline with a snarl?

He simply muttered, “I suppose so, yes.”

She smiled, stepping over to the edge of the bath. “Wonderful. In the meantime, please continue to make yourself at home. I can trust you to move about more freely now, but the guards have been warned to keep a close eye on you, so please do not test my patience.”

She looked down on him in such a way that made him uncomfortable, and he pressed himself into the corner of the bath. “Now that you've had a proper bath and new clothes, you should have no trouble finding company with some of the more… socially inclined servants, if that is what you wish.” She smirked and stepped back around the edge of the bath to the door. “Do not hesitate to ask should you require anything else.” She delicately shut the door behind her as she left.

Mianna was certainly mocking him, of that he was sure.

_Your lack of caution is becoming dangerous. How long did that servant stand watching us? You were fortunate this time, but next time a blade may find its way to your heart._

Ashamed at his failing, Albtraum quickly dried himself with the linens and hurriedly dressed in the clothes he’d been given. They were finer than what he’d been given before, but fit too loosely on him. He fidgeted with the edges as they awkwardly wrinkled over his gangly frame.

His body felt heavy as he left the bath house, and as he was led back to his room once again, he found the halls to be cold in comparison to the damp heat he'd sat in for the past few hours.

He entered his room in a rush when he arrived, finding Renegade was sleeping soundly, curled up in the center of the bed. He yawned and stretched as Albtraum settled into the covers. The bed had been made with fresh sheets, and against his now-clean skin, the feeling was nigh on intoxicating.

Overcome by some feeling he found unfamiliar, Albtraum reached out to scoop up Renegade, bringing him up close to nestle into the pillows. Renegade licked the end of his nose and whimpered contentedly before snuggling himself under Albtraum’s chin.

Lucifurius scoffed in disgust, but Albtraum had scarcely heard it before he drifted off to sleep.


	11. Chapter X

Mianna had offered Ismaire a proper bedroom years ago, and every so often, the offer would resurface. Ismaire had never once considered accepting. She'd always preferred the loft she'd put together for herself in the rafters, away from the commotion of the estate, away from where most people could find her.  
  
Most people, of course, did not include Mianna herself.  
  
“Ismaire,” Her voice rang hard and sharp, echoing through the open loft.  
  
Ismaire sighed. “What do you want, Mia?” She rolled over the edge of her bed, out of the elaborate nest of bedding she had constructed over the years, and dropped to the floor to face Mianna, crouched like a cat.  
  
“I'll thank you not to take such an informal tone with me,” Mianna said, but there was a touch of amusement in her expression. “I have matters to discuss with you. Have a seat.”  
  
Ismaire rolled her eyes and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her bed. Mianna stepped up into the loft and stood in front of her, handing her a small, folded bundle of parchment. “I have here a letter from your family. In your reply, you can tell them you will be visiting at the end of the year.”  
  
Her eyes widened as she took the papers. “Really? You're going to let me go home?”

“Not hardly,” Mianna corrected, and Ismaire found her heightened spirits sinking. “We will travel as a group for a brief visit. I have need of your tribe's services and I would like to discuss my plans with them in person. You yourself still have much work to do before your debt is paid.”

Ismaire shifted uncomfortably as she recalled the circumstances that had first brought her to Sylva. “I… I know. I only thought…”

Mianna continued, cutting her off. “Beyond that, the responsibilities we had discussed previously are close at hand. I need you to follow my every instruction closely on our travels, and that will include maintaining amicable relations with Albtraum.”

Ismaire inhaled sharply to shoot back with an objection, but as she stared up at Mianna, she realized how futile her words would be. She fidgeted with the thick parchment she held. Even though it had travelled halfway across the world, it still held a few grains of sand from the desert, which fell into her hands. “Alright. I will make an effort.”

“Thank you. Now, I will leave you to answer your letters. I am sure your family will be joyed to hear from you.”

Ismaire turned the parcel over in her hands as Mianna exited the loft, sighing as she anticipated looking upon its contents. She had not so much as visited her home since she first left five years ago, and she missed it, but for the most part she dreaded returning. The words exchanged with her mother over letters had been only half as harsh as the conversation was to surely be face-to-face.

Even harder to accept than her admonishment, though, was her love. Ismaire had received less than a dozen letters from her mother and father in the time she had spent in Sylva, but each one, no matter how pointed her mother’s criticisms and scolding, she had always been sure to remind Ismaire of their love for her.

Even Mianna… She had never known Ismaire before she had fallen in with such poor company, and had every right to judge her solely on the deeds she had witnessed. Mianna could have locked her in a cell forever, or even executed her for what she had done, but instead she had given Ismaire a chance to change.

Ismaire would not allow that chance to be taken away from her… even if it meant disobeying Mianna.

She slumped back against the edge of her bed, releasing a sigh of frustration. When she'd first heard the rumors, she sat hoping Albtraum would find his way to their doorstep – she needed to prove to Mianna that she had atoned for her past mistakes, and prove to herself that she was not beyond all redemption. Killing him provided a perfect way to do so. He was an infamous murderer, after all, his crimes more heinous even than her own.

As the rumors got closer and closer to them and finally he showed himself there, she had been just inches from killing him. She'd never expected that Mianna actually _wanted_ him, for whatever reasons she had.

He was her chance for redemption, his death the currency to end her debt to Mianna, and she wanted him _alive._

She furiously ran a hand through her hair, grumbling. She could only hope that he would falter soon – that the monster in him would come back, that they would see him for what he really was.

When he did, she would be ready.

* * *

Albtraum stood in front of the vanity mirror, twisting and turning as he attempted to manage the many layers of clothing he had been given. There had been no instruction delivered with the ornate outfit - a doublet of deep violet, a loose, velvety black robe, and a golden silk sash. Even his black trousers and soft cloth shoes had been detailed with delicate embroidery.  
  
He sighed at his reflection. He scarcely recognized himself - dressed in lavish clothing, neatly groomed... positively _presentable_. The mats and tangles were gone from his scarlet hair, and it shone in the light, thick and silky. The queen and her followers had managed, somehow, to tame the wilds from him. His glinting firelight eyes were the only visible remainder of his monstrosity.  
  
Albtraum thought he might be more disappointed to find himself reduced to this state - but the comfort of his fine clothes and the promise of a rich meal awaiting him had occupied his thoughts for the time being. As if to agree, a growl rumbled deep within his stomach.

 _You have been made to suffer far too many human meals... they are empty of substance. If this goes on much longer, we will find ourselves inexorably weakened._  
  
Lucifurius spoke with strained patience, his tone goading Albtraum to action.   
  
Albtraum knew well that this ruse could not continue indefinitely. He was a captive here - and easy as that was to forget, it was the truth. Already the feel of a blade in his hand seemed a distant, fading memory, and the call of the battlefield no longer sang through his every move.  
  
Renegade was gnawing at his toes, and the pup's teeth were so sharp they found their way through the cloth shoes to Albtraum's skin. He grunted and glared down, prompting Renegade's ears to pin back, his tail giving a halfhearted wag as if in apology. It was impossible for Albtraum's anger to rise past annoyance - the dog had an inexplicable charm, and loath as he was to admit it, Albtraum had grown attached to him. Perhaps, he thought, he might make a permanent companion of him once he left this place.  
_  
It is imperative that we search for a means of escape with all haste. Every day that passes with you in their clutches you become more toothless… Even now, this vermin has more fangs than you._

Albtraum knew Lucifurius spoke the truth, but he found himself hesitant to concede. Giving in meant scorning the possibilities the world of humans held, and he was not yet ready to turn his back on that.

A sharp rap at the door caught his attention, and he turned as the door opened, Brunhart stepping in.

“Well, Joaquin has managed to make you look like a proper royal guest,” he commented with a slight chuckle. “Come on then, I’m to see you off to dine with the queen.”

Albtraum knelt to scoop up Renegade and followed Brunhart out to the hall, shutting the door behind him as he stepped out of the room. Even though it had been but a few days, he felt an ownership of the space. A small fortress in this den of foes.

The setting sun cast an orange glow into the hallway, but the estate seemed far from settling down, guards and servants bustling noisily through the halls as they finished with the day’s work and moved into their evening leisure time. Some of them passed by Albtraum without noticing him, some fell into a hush and stared as he moved past – still others seemed more concerned with Brunhart, quieting and moving ahead with stiff postures, casting him a glance out of the corner of the eye, until they were well past him. Albtraum watched them all as they passed by, so distracted that he did not notice as Brunhart came to a halt, and he walked straight into his back.

Albtraum quickly reeled back, inhaling sharply, fearful of his own inattention. He could just as easily have walked into the end of a blade.

Brunhart seemed to shrug off the collision with only the faintest amusement. “Here you are. The queen is waiting.”

Albtraum stepped past him, setting Renegade down to trot along at his side as he entered the banquet hall. The smell of the food that had been brought out to the table was intoxicating, filling the room and making his mouth water. The table was long, with seating for many guests, but only two of the seats were occupied at the head of the table, by Mianna and Joaquin.

Mianna gave a good natured smile as she saw Albtraum enter, and Joaquin looked quite pleased with himself, looking to Mianna with a smirk after he’d looked Albtraum up and down.

“I did tell you I could make him worthy of a court appearance, did I not? Although…” He turned back to Albtraum with a frown, rising from his chair with a huff. “You’ve tied the sash all wrong, just allow me to…”

He trailed off, fidgeting with the length of silk about Albtraum’s waist as Albtraum stood stiffly, his arms held awkwardly in the air. When Joaquin had finished, he had seemingly magically produced a neatly constructed knot of the sash. He pulled out a heavy wooden chair from the table, motioning for Albtraum to sit.

He’d scarcely settled into the seat before a servant set a bowl of broth on the table in front of him, and a plate of meat scraps on the floor for Renegade. The pup gratefully tore into the fatty trimmings, crawling onto the plate as he feasted.

Albtraum stared down at the bowl of broth on the table in front of him then glanced across the table at Mianna and Joaquin.

“I doubt this audience was intended solely for the meal,” he muttered coldly, reaching for the spoon at the side of the place setting after he saw Mianna do so.

Mianna sipped broth from the spoon and eyed Albtraum as he stirred his own bowl, her expression betraying nothing. The tension in the air was palpable, and Albtraum felt more trapped than ever.

“It can be considered quite rude to some to cut straight to business matters before engaging in socialization, though I do appreciate your pragmatism.” There was a teasing lilt in her voice that set him on edge.

He turned his attention to the food then, bringing a spoonful of broth to his mouth. It was a light broth, nearly transparent, but it had a rich flavor and a velvety texture, and for a moment, Albtraum forgot his tension. He glanced about the room to avoid Mianna and Joaquin’s curious gazes, finding that much activity bustled just outside the banquet hall, though the hall itself appeared empty with but three occupants at the table.

“I will dispense with pleasantries, if that is what you wish,” Mianna declared, breaking the silence. “If I am to be quite brief, I would wish to extend an offer for you to join our Order.”

Albtraum started, blinking at her. “Join you?”

_Oh, this is quite the development. What fool thing is she planning? Does she truly expect us to be so stupid?_

“Yes, Albtraum. Our organization strives to foster balance in this world and all those connected to it, but the voice of a daemon is something we lack. I mentioned previously that your connection to the dark world makes you a valuable ally to us, and I believe your benefits to us could be best utilized if you were to join our ranks.”

_Has she forgotten my presence?_

Albtraum set aside his spoon, and stared down at the table. The ruse was truly being tested, and Albtraum doubted he could continue with is for very much longer, as much as he wished to learn more of this world. They were changing him… Turning him into one of them. As much as he resisted, Lucifurius was right. There had been an undeniable impact.

It was time to put an end to it.

“You must be a fool,” Albtraum muttered, leaning back in his seat, eyes still downcast at his bowl. “A fool to think that I would ever join a cause headed by those who have killed and mutilated my brothers and sisters.”

_Yes. Good._

“The daemon children were a blessing given to you by my father, and they were cast aside as though they meant nothing!” He stood from the table, his shoulders tightening. “He sought concord with your people and he was scorned at every turn. Do not presume to offer alliance now, as though we have somehow forgotten, as though you offer us a favor.” His voice was louder and stronger than he had dared allowed in his time here, leaving a sharp silence in its wake.

_We must prepare to flee. Find a weapon if you can._

He stood still, staring across the table. Joaquin stared back in shock at his outburst, but Mianna, irritatingly, was unfazed, her posture relaxed and her expression betraying nothing.

“That is what you believe then, Albtraum?” Mianna asked him, setting aside her spoon and standing from the table. “That daemon children were a gift to humanity, and that your father once sought out peace with us?”

“Yes,” Albtraum spat back. “And none of your lies will sway me.”

He looked behind her then, finding that a few guards had stepped inside the banquet hall, weapons ready. He gritted his teeth. Escape would certainly prove difficult.

“I cannot fault you for that, of course,” Mianna answered calmly, waving off the guards, who slowly stood down. “You have known little of the world outside of your father’s vision of it. And so, what other truth can you be expected to accept?”

Albtraum narrowed his eyes at her as she spoke. Her composure was both baffling and frustrating, and Albtraum found as he watched her speak that it eroded his conviction. How was she so sure of herself when confronted with the truth?

“I will not ask that you take me at my word. That would be unfair of me. Instead, I will show you the truth.”

Albtraum glanced behind himself, finding himself flanked by two guards. He growled. He had missed his chance for escape.

“It will require that we travel beyond the walls of the city, so we must leave it until tomorrow… In the meantime, I will have the remainder of your meal sent to your room. I imagine you might prefer to spend your evening alone.”

Mianna motioned to the guards, and Albtraum was firmly restrained by the arms and escorted away from the hall. Renegade ran after him, the guards paying the pup no mind.

 _You should have run,_ Lucifurius sighed. _Ah, well. No matter. I am sure another opportunity for escape will present itself shortly… If not, we shall simply have to find a blade and carve one out._


	12. Chapter XI

The sun had just broken over the horizon when the guards entered Albtraum’s room, but he had not slept.

The stale remnants of the meal he’d been brought sat on the vanity. He had tried to resist eating the food, but it had been too tempting, his hunger too great. Renegade looked over to the door curiously as the guards entered. He had spent the night nestled close to where Albtraum sat on the bed, but Albtraum had been far too fraught with tension to stroke the pup’s soft fur.

Mianna entered the room after the guards, and Albtraum felt the back of his neck burn with anger at the sight of her. She was dressed in travelling clothes, practical but ornate. Brunhart stood directly behind her.

“Good morning, Albtraum. I would ask if you rested well, but you do not appear to have.” Mianna stood aside as more guards entered and surrounded him. “I apologize for the early hour, but I’m afraid our journey will take a great potion of the day. I will ensure your pet is cared for. Let us be off.”

Albtraum said nothing, allowing himself to be led away, almost relieved that the ruse had been dispensed with and he was now being fully treated as the prisoner he truly was.

He stared at the stone floors as they made their way through the castle, ignoring the sounds around him as the servants and guards filled the hallways. He would soon be far from this place. He felt his chest tighten with regret that he was unable to take Renegade along with him, but that was how it must be. He could stay here no longer.

The chill of the early morning was sharp as they made their way outside to an assembly of yet more guards with horses at the ready. The beasts shifted, hooves clicking noisily against the cobbled streets, their breath creating great clouds in the cold air before them. There was a small passenger cart, which the guards led Albtraum to, with one sat on either side of him, and three across.

Brunhart sat directly opposite Albtraum, regarding him sternly, but with an underlying emotion Albtraum found difficult to identify.

“I remind you again, boy, we are not your enemies.”

Albtraum glared coldly back at him, saying nothing in response as he turned his gaze to the road ahead.

Mianna and her guards were no fools. They had left no opening – chances for escape were few, if not nonexistent.

_Patience, child. Opportunity will present itself. Be on your guard._

Albtraum watched the forests pass by as the group travelled, Mianna riding at the head of the group and a few guards riding alongside the cart. Everything had frosted over in the night, sparkling in the bright morning sun as the frozen trees slowly thawed. It was beautiful, and Albtraum found his mind wandering, anticipating his return to wandering the forests. Unbound by stone walls. Free.

He shifted, his shoulders uncomfortably pressed up against those of the guards, his knees pressed together and his head turned at an angle to avoid looking in the eyes of any of his captors. The sight of them infuriated him.

The roads were well travelled, as made obvious by how smoothly the cart rolled along and the occasional traveler crossing paths with the group. They would veer to the side of the path and bow their heads until Mianna had passed, and Albtraum found the gesture rather odd.

 _Humans will express reverence for the strangest of things,_ Lucifurius mused.

The guards remained tense and silent all the way along the road, as did Albtraum. It must have been well over an hour before the road lead them to a small settlement. There were wooden walls, worn but carefully constructed, and the gentle sounds of human activity emanated from within. The sun had risen higher in the sky by now, and the air was warmer, but a deep chill had settled into Albtraum’s bones, and his body ached from the uncomfortable seat of the cart.

They came to a stop, and the guards led Albtraum from the cart. He bristled, waiting for a chance – leaving the cart, perhaps, he could reach for a weapon, break loose. The guards were standing farther apart, now, he could break free and run…

_Now, child. We will go together._

He readied himself to wrench free of the grasp of the guards - but Mianna’s voice ringing out from the village gate captured his attention.

“Have a look then, Albtraum. The results of your father’s gifts to humanity.”

Curiosity demanded Albtraum turn his head to look upon what she gestured to. Beyond the village’s wooden wall was a standard human settlement – or so it appeared on first glance.

As the moments wore on and Albtraum drank in the sight before him, the despair of the village became apparent. There were great gaping holes in the earth, like wounds, that oozed something thick and black. The grasses and shrubs of the area were withered, long dead even before any winter’s chill had reached them. The villagers that milled about appeared in poor health, thin-faced and slow moving.

Mianna turned from observing the village to face him. “This is what the lord of all daemons considers his gift to us. Unbidden he reached his darkness into our world, draining the life from it. Impregnating unwilling women with his children, sickening all he can touch.”

Albtraum looked across the landscape - blackened with death, the townspeople moving slowly about their daily tasks, hobbled by the sickness that had seeped its way into the very earth.  
  
This was Lucifurius' conquest. The ruin that remained after he had taken all he could, adding it to his own power.   
  
Somehow, Albtraum felt no pride as he observed the crippled village's inhabitants shamble nigh-lifelessly past him. Unease prickled through his mind, along with pity, and perhaps even shame. His sorrow for his murdered siblings was no less, but given that these were the circumstances of their births, he could hardly imagine how any human might consider them a gift. How great and powerful of a ruler could Lucifurius be if all his strength was stolen?

_Child. Do not let this witch poison your thoughts._

Albtraum floundered for an explanation… any way this could be a lie. Perhaps the humans had done this, and simply decided to blame Lucifurius?

This could not be, however. The energy exuded by the area was distressingly familiar, the same as the energy that existed within himself.

“I show you this not to shame you, Albtraum. You do not bear the guilt of your father’s sins, you are as much a victim as any. But you must understand. You must know the truth.” Mianna motioned forward, and the group continued into the village.

Albtraum said nothing, following in a daze, memories of the many he’d slaughtered burning through his mind. Had they been innocent, as these people were? Had they been as unknowing of the reason for their deaths, sacrifices on an altar of stolen lives and false power?

“Albtraum.”

Mianna’s voice snapped him out of his dark musing, and he looked over at her. She stared back with concern.

“A father’s duty is to protect his children. Not to send them by the thousands to die in the clutches of enemies he has made for himself. Not use them as his weapon… as you have been.”

Albtraum felt the entirety of what he knew unravelling before him. Desperate, he reached for Lucifurius.

_I am nothing to you._

It was a statement, not a question. A wavering, despairing accusation. Albtraum hoped Lucifurius’ denial would be all the stronger for it.

Seconds dragged on, feeling like hours.

Finally, a response.

Laughter.

 _You have always known this,_ Lucifurius hissed. _Why now does this trouble you?_

Albtraum drew in a shaky breath. _My whole life has been in your service… For your conquest. If I mean nothing to you… What meaning is there? What am I?_

Despair gave way to rage. Something broke within him.

_If I have no meaning, then I have no reason to submit. If even you will not dignify my existence, then I will have to do so myself._

Lucifurius’ reaction was swift and overwhelming. His words amplified until they drowned out all senses. Albtraum felt as though he was buried, he could scarcely breathe, nothing reached his ears but painful silence, vision blurred until he was blinded. He felt himself severed from every one of his senses, and the world gave way to silent, endless darkness. Nothing remained but the force of Lucifurius’ voice and a searing, white hot agony.  

_You miserable insect. I have warned you before, but it would seem your foolishness knows no bounds. You believe you can stand on your own?! If you believe you deserve to have any more importance than a means to my ends, then you are a fool and I should never have saved you from your mother’s clutches._

_I thought you the shining example among my children, but it is clear to me now that you are nothing but filth._

_You want to serve them? Go on, then. See if they see any meaning in your miserable existence without the meaning I have given you!_

When the supernova of pain that had exploded behind his eyes faded, the world came back into focus. He was looking up at Mianna and Brunhart who were knelt beside him, vaguely aware of the twigs and rocks on the ground poking at him through his clothes.

He had fallen unconscious, and was lying on his back. He blinked as he looked up, finding the guards surrounding him, and even a few of the villagers having come over to investigate.

“Are you alright?” Mianna asked him as Brunhart helped push him up to a sitting position.

“I…I…” Albtraum stammered as he looked up at them. Lucifurius had gone quiet, as if the explosion of power had not happened.

The lingering ache in his head and the uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach, however, said otherwise.

“Have you need of anything for your companion, Majesty?” A villager asked, bowing his head as he approached them. The man looked as withered as the village, deep shadows under his eyes, his face gaunt and his skin pale.

“No,” Albtraum muttered, trying to stand. “No, I—”

“Thank you for your concern, sir,” Mianna answered graciously as she rose to her feet. “A spell by the hearth might do him some good, I should think.”

Albtraum did not object as Brunhart pulled him to his feet, leading him in the direction the villager pointed them in. There was a profound difference in the way Brunhart gripped his arm, compared to the way that the guards had before – as though he was holding Albtraum up, rather than restraining him.

The group made their way to a building at the center of the village. Albtraum realized on entering that it was a tavern, evident by the small gathering of villagers and the rows of tables along the walls. Despite the conditions of the village and the surrounding land, the inside of the tavern was warm and pleasant, a strong fire burning in the center of the room and the smell of rich food wafting through the air.

Albtraum all but collapsed into a chair near the fireplace, his body heavy and weak from Lucifurius’ attack on his essence. Only Brunhart and Mianna had followed him in, and Mianna took a seat across from him, observing him carefully.

“Something seems to have come over you. Are you quite alright?” Mianna asked, settling into the wooden chair.

Albtraum let out a breath, looking into the fire. He folded his arms against himself. “I did not know.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Mianna’s expression soften, if only slightly. “Of course you did not. You could not have. I assume Lucifurius was the cause of your collapse.”

Albtraum nodded. His head swam, still thrumming with ache.

Mianna looked around the tavern, seemingly unfazed by the sidelong glances directed her way and the whispering of the patrons. “This village was first stricken fifteen years ago. Young women suddenly bearing horned children, the earth decaying and infertile, sickness overtaking all who resided here… We offered them a place within Sylva’s walls to escape the conditions here, and many accepted, but still more stayed. They are proud of this place… They have made it their home and their grave.”

Albtraum listened to her and fidgeted uncomfortably, the world around him feeling suddenly nebulous and surreal. He could hardly imagine being so bound to one place, having spent his life roaming, always moving, always alone but for…

He drew in a breath, stopping himself. He did not want to think about Lucifurius. He did not want to think about life without Lucifurius.

“This is not the only city your father has drained the life from, or impregnated with his children. There are many across the world… More evidence every day of his rotting soul. He is no noble ruler seeking to reclaim something stolen from him. He is a withering god desperately clinging to something he should have let go of long ago.”

Her words had to be falsehood, and yet Lucifurius had not denied them. Faced with a challenge, Lucifurius had only confirmed Albtraum’s burgeoning doubts. Aching emptiness filled him.

Albtraum could never imagine a life beyond what he shared with Lucifurius. It seemed nothing could go on.

And yet, it had.

The world persisted. The gentle sounds and smells of the tavern enveloped his senses.

Another existence remained with these people. Lucifurius had called it a lie, but how was the life he provided founded in any truth when it was so easily dismantled?

Emptiness gave way to exhaustion. But this was the exhaustion of a battle ended… not of a defeat.

“I will return to your city with you,” Albtraum said quietly, standing from the chair. “I will offer what you require of me.”

This, it seemed, was the first thing he had said that truly surprised Mianna. Her bewildered expression gave way to a warm smile, and she stood as well, extending a hand. “I am so glad of this partnership, Albtraum. I hope that you will find it mutually beneficial... You are a great boon to us, but we also aim to offer you a chance at the life you deserve, guided by your own will.”

Though he understood her words, he had little concept of what a life guided by his own will might look like. But something about the idea was enticing all the same. Awkwardly, he accepted Mianna’s outstretched hand, gripping it timidly in agreement.

They left the tavern, and the guards awaiting them eagerly, seeming to sense Mianna’s triumph as they made their way back to the wagon. Brunhart remained close at Albtraum’s side, but it did not seem to be for the purposes of restraint. The guards gave Albtraum a wide berth, but it did not seem to be out of fear.

The road here had been strained and silent, but the road back saw the group conversing comfortably, never addressing Albtraum directly but seeming to accept his presence.

As they reached Sylva’s walls once again, they felt far less a prison, and far more the beginning of something new.


	13. Chapter XII

Albtraum was left largely to his own devices in the days that followed, and he was glad of the fact. Having disposed of the lie that he would cooperate with Mianna’s wishes and having truly agreed to follow her, he was not sure what to do, how to act. He stayed in his room most hours of the day, a guard or servant occasionally leading him through the gardens to walk Renegade. His meals were delivered to him three times daily, and he was regularly informed by all who interacted with him that if he should require anything he need but ask.

He had no earthly idea what someone in his position _should_ require, and he spent most of his time in anxious anticipation, waiting for a sign of the way forward. He had never before realized how truly dependent he was upon Lucifurius’ guidance until now, that he was devoid of it.

Lucifurius had been silent since the trek to the corrupted village. At times it almost seemed he was gone… but his presence was undeniable, looming at the back of Albtraum’s consciousness, watching everything he did. The silence was almost more powerful than his voice had been.

Albtraum laid quietly in his bed, awake but unable to raise himself just yet. He was sunken comfortably into the downy mattress, Renegade curled up beside his head on the pillow. A knock at the door awakened the pup, and he sprang up, running to the end of the bed and yipping, full of fervor but not very threatening.

Albtraum got up, opening the heavy wooden door to find Joaquin standing there, an armful of leatherbound books almost obscuring his face from view. Without asking to be let in he pushed past Albtraum, setting the stack of books on the dresser.

“Good morning,” he chirped, too energetic. He was dressed just as lavishly as he had been each time before, this time in a deep red tunic with shiny golden trim. “The servants have informed me you have been spending all your time in this stuffy old room. Can you read?”

Albtraum was somewhat taken aback by the sudden nature of the question, and took a moment to respond. “Yes,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose I can.” It was a skill that had been implanted in him by Lucifurius; he could not remember a time when he had not had it.

Joaquin smiled. “Wonderful. We have a rather extensive library; I’ve selected some books you might take interest in. I thought you might enjoy having something to do while we make preparations, rather than just twiddle your thumbs for the next few weeks.”

Albtraum examined the tall pile of books and picked up the book on top, a small volume simply etched with the title _The Prince._

“Oh,” Joaquin interjected, stepping closer. “I must have taken that by accident – it's Machiavelli, he's dreadfully tedious.”

Albtraum shrugged. “I can read it and see for myself.” He set it back down on the dresser.

Joaquin sighed. “Alright, but _please_ don't let it turn you away from the other books if you dislike it.” He turned, motioning for some servants outside to come into the room. They were carrying neatly folded stacks of clothing, which they carefully laid out on Albtraum’s bed.

“I’ve started working on a wardrobe for you, as a ward of the queen you will need to be decent even while travelling and going about your daily business.” Joaquin gestured to the clothes as the servants left from the room. Renegade sniffed at the freshly tailored fabrics, and Joaquin tried unsuccessfully to shoo him away.

Albtraum picked Renegade up from the bed to set him down on the floor as he looked over the clothes laid out on the bed – the coat, made from the velvety blue material he had chosen, was the first thing to catch his eye. Beside it was a vest, a dark umber color, and an ivory-colored cloak. There was a pair of canvas trousers and two pieces of leather leg armor, attached to a finely pressed belt. A riding outfit, if what he’d seen so far of human attire was anything to go by.

There were a few other sets of clothes with simpler designs but intricate embroidery – Albtraum had to wonder how they'd had time to do all this in the space of a few days. A few more pairs of canvas trousers and a black tunic paired with a dull red velvet shirt to be worn underneath. Two other loose tunics, one blue and one gray, that would have been plain if not for the embroidery that had been threaded through them as well.

“This, of course, is only what I have made for the moment, I have every confidence I can produce a full wardrobe for you before we set off on our travels,” Joaquin mused.

“I am… certain you can,” Albtraum replied, somewhat bewildered.

He looked over to find that Renegade had trotted over to the door, yipping at a guard who stood there.

“Hello there, Renegade,” the guard said as he knelt down, extending his hand to be sniffed before scratching Renegade between the ears. Albtraum had seen him before, guarding the infirmary, and he had looked after Renegade once before. He looked up when Albtraum stepped out into the hall, pushing messy curls of mousy hair out of his eyes as he stood. He was tall, but still a touch shorter than Albtraum.

“Ah, hello! Aleksandra sent me up, she wanted to look you over again and make sure everything is healing properly. You're Albtraum?” He extended a hand. “I'm Glen Harlowe. Normally I guard the stables, but…” He trailed off as Albtraum did not take his hand, simply staring at him.

Joaquin stepped out into the hall after Albtraum, chuckling. “He’s still adjusting to civilized life, so be patient with him. Albtraum, why don’t you spend some time out and about today? I’m sure it might do you some good.”

Glen nodded. “I can escort him around for the day! Well, let's go and have you looked over, shall we?” He started off down the hall to the stairway and Albtraum followed after him, picking up Renegade as he went.

Glen did not say anything else on their way down to the infirmary, but he kept looking back at Albtraum as if he were about to. When they reached the infirmary it was empty, and the doctor seemed to be waiting for them. She sat Albtraum down on one of the benches as he entered without so much as a greeting, cutting off the bandages around his abdomen. It stung when the air hit it, but Albtraum tried not to wince.

“Better,” Aleksandra said after looking over the wound, “but you should still try not to overexert yourself.” She re-bandaged it and poked and prodded at his face for a moment. “This will be less likely to scar if you don't pick at it, so don't touch it.”

Albtraum stood again as the doctor went back to her work and turned back to Glen, who was on his knees, playing with Renegade.

“I need something to eat,” Albtraum informed him quietly, adjusting the hem of his shirt, which had caught on the bandages.

Glen stood suddenly. “Oh, of course! It's still breakfast at the mess hall, so there'll be quite a crowd, but… We could go into the city, if you'd like.”

Albtraum found the permissiveness with which he was allowed to roam around quite overwhelming, hence why he had kept to his room. But the prospect of venturing somewhere outside the castle walls intriguing, and having a guide made it far less intimidating.

“We can go to the city,” Albtraum agreed.

“Follow me, then.” Glen started in the direction of the front gate, Albtraum trailing behind him, Renegade scampering around his feet.

The chill in the air was milder than it had been in days previous when they stepped out into the courtyard, and the sun was shining. Albtraum found it hard to believe he'd only been closed off in the estate for a few days – it felt like a small eternity since he'd seen the outside. They walked down the hill into the lower section of the city, the street merchants and townspeople watching them as they passed.

Glen stopped at one of the buildings on a street corner, pushing the door open and waiting for Albtraum to walk in ahead of him. It was dark inside and the air was thick and smoky, and the sounds of chatter spilled out into the street as the door opened. The smells wafting from inside made his mouth water.

Albtraum stood inside the crowded building, picking Renegade up to keep him from being trampled underfoot.

“Ah, Noman!” Albtraum turned around as Glen made his way to a large table at the center of the floor, where a lone guard sat drinking from a tankard. Albtraum had seen him before too – he'd escorted him to the symposium hall the previous night. “Your day off, is it?”

“Yes,” the older man said gruffly, setting down his drink. His long black hair was tied back, and he was dressed similarly to the other people in the building, in plain work clothes. “You're still working, though.”

“Well, I'm just escorting him around for the day.” Glen nodded to Albtraum. “We came down to get some pie.”

Noman nodded. “Just finished mine.”

Glen motioned for Albtraum to sit, and he did, holding Renegade in his lap.

“They have the best meat pies here,” he said excitedly, sitting down next to Albtraum as a man approached the table with two tankards, setting them down at the table.

“Brought a friend with you, Glen?”

“Guest of the queen's,” He answered. “Have Annette make us a pie each, would you, Maks?”

“Of course.” The man turned back and disappeared into another room.

Noman nudged Albtraum's arm with an elbow. “Drink up, boy.”

Annoyed, Albtraum picked up the tankard and drank from it. He recoiled, spluttering. He had nearly choked himself on a large gulp of the bitter drink, and half of it ended up spat back into the glass.

Noman was chuckling. “You'll get used to the taste.”

In smaller sips, it was tolerable. It warmed up his chest as he drank, and the feeling was not entirely unpleasant. Thought Albtraum did wonder if he was being poisoned.

“So, Al – Can I call you Al?” Glen asked, taking a drink from his own tankard. Albtraum shrugged. “What do they have you here for? You don't… You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to, of course, I only thought I'd...”

“I'm not entirely sure of that myself,” Albtraum muttered in response.

“They've said we may be traveling soon, which is exciting, it's been so long since I've even been down the mountain.” Glen reached over to pet Renegade, who was pacing across Albtraum's lap, trying to climb over his arms.

Albtraum sat up quite quickly when someone set a steaming pie in front of him with a spoon, and he quickly dug into it.

There were potatoes in the pie, but Albtraum avoided them easily – the rest of the pie was delicious. After every few bites, he'd stop eating to feed a morsel of meat to Renegade. Glen ate at his own, watching them with a grin.

“Good, isn't it?” His smile widened when Albtraum nodded. “Most people love Annette's pies.”

Noman stood from the table and patted Glen's shoulder. “I'd best get on with my day, I'll see you boys tomorrow.” Glen waved as he stepped out.

“Don't like the potatoes?” Glen asked when he turned back to the table, pointing at Albtraum’s mostly-empty bowl with his fork. Albtraum shook his head. “I'll eat them, then.”

“Do you know all the people in the city so well?” Albtraum asked curiously as he watched Glen finish off the potatoes in the bowl. The concept of having so many connections and relationships was staggering, but all the many people in this place seemed to be quite closely acquainted.

Glen’s eyes widened a fraction. “Oh, well, not _all_ of them. Annette and her son Maks looked after me when I was young, so I know most of the people who visit here. And the guards I work with, of course.”

“Glen,” came an old woman's voice behind them. “You've got two dishes in front of you and your skinny friend here's got none – I know you love to eat, but I never raised you to be a thief.”

“I didn't want to waste the potatoes, Annette,” Glen laughed. “He doesn't like them.”

“That so? I'll give you a chicken pie next time then, dear, it hasn't got any potatoes. I reckon I've got some scraps for the pup, too.” She stepped away from the table.

“We can come back tomorrow to get another pie if you like,” Glen said to Albtraum as he watched to woman walk away.

“Alright,” Albtraum replied. The woman had returned with parchment-wrapped package, and Renegade sniffed excitedly at it as she placed it in Albtraum's hands.

“Don't be a stranger, either of you. Glen, you never told me your friend's name?”

“Oh, this is Albtraum. Al? Al.” He grinned. “We'll be back tomorrow, Annette.”

“You're going to get fat if you keep eating my pies every day, Glen, and then you won't be able to find a girl to marry you. Look what's happened to Noman,” Annette said with a huff as they stood to leave.

“In Noman's defense, I don't think finding a wife has _ever_ been a concern of his,” Glen chuckled. Again, he opened the door and waited for Albtraum to step out ahead of him.

It had grown even warmer in the time they’d spent inside, the sun shining warmly upon the cobbled streets, melting the lingering ice that had built up there. Renegade eagerly tried to reach the package of scraps in Albtraum’s hand as they walked, though Albtraum held him tucked in the opposite arm.

“Her Majesty wanted to make sure you know how to ride before we set off travelling, and seeing as I’m in charge of caring for the horses, she asked that I teach you,” Glen said as they made their way back up to the castle.

Albtraum wondered how he was expected to respond – and so he did all he could think to, briefly nodding.

_You will never be one of them. You are so pathetic you cannot even become a human._

Albtraum slowed to a stop at hearing Lucifurius speak. He had not believed he was gone, or that he would remain silent, but…

“Al? You alright?”

Albtraum looked over to Glen. “I… I need to go back to my room,” he muttered quickly.

Glen’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? Do you need to see Aleksandra again?”

“No, I…” Albtraum let out a breath. “I just need to lie down.”

“Alright. It was good to meet you, Al. I'll come by to guard the door later if you need anything else.”

Albtraum stared back at him, then hesitantly nodded once more. “Good to… meet you as well.”

He rushed back up to the castle and through the hallways to his bedroom, seemingly unnoticed by the people he passed. The castle walls seemed safer somehow, but he knew there was no safety from Lucifurius. He was everywhere, entwined with Albtraum’s very soul. They were never apart… There were no lengths he would go to that would offer escape.

Nevertheless, Albtraum shut the bedroom door as he reached it, setting Renegade on the floor and opening the package of scraps, which the pup eagerly tore into. He picked up _The Prince_ from the top of his dresser.

Lucifurius was laughing. _You exchange pleasantries and wear their garb and eat their fare as though you can be one of them. But you can never be._

Albtraum ignored him, collapsing onto the bed and opening up the book. He only hoped this Niccolo Machiavelli would be enough to drown out Lucifurius’ voice.


	14. Chapter XIII

Mianna expected, as always, to find her office a flurry of dust and chaos when she entered it, but was rather surprised to find it tidy and organized, and Joaquin sitting at her desk, looking over letters and documents. He was dressed crisply and formally, as he always was, and Mianna found herself wondering whether she had ever seen him looking anything but perfectly kempt in the many years they had worked together.

“Good morning, Mianna. We've heard back from the other kingdoms,” he informed her, holding out a few of the parchments to her. The seals were broken. “They have all expressed eagerness to meet with our new charge, everyone seems quite intrigued by him. Though Camlion seems a bit more eager to meet with _you.”_

Mianna glanced over the letters, raising an eyebrow. “He always does, doesn't he?”

Joaquin chuckled. “I wonder how many more times you'll have to let him down gently before he takes the hint?”

“He may never learn, unfortunately.” She circled the desk to sit down as Joaquin stood up from her chair. “Have you had any further insights as to who killed our guards?”

“I am afraid not… Every one of them is equally suspect in my mind. None of them have ever had an abundance of respect for your rule.” Joaquin smirked. “And I daresay your audacious lack of offense at that disrespect has done little to improve your relations with your colleagues.”

Mianna smiled in return and set the letters down among the pile of documents on the desk. “That said, I am glad that Albtraum has made himself fully willing to follow our directives. With possible enemies on all sides, we need as little resistance as possible from within. The servants inform me he has been quite take with the books you brought for him, he was reading Machiavelli this morning.”

“He was?” Joaquin gasped, almost horrified. “I added it to the pile accidentally… I never thought he would enjoy such tedium. I never finished _The Prince,_ myself. I do hope he has moved on to the others by now. Chaucer, Virgil, Boccaccio, Ovid… That should keep him occupied for quite a while, I imagine, until we leave. A proper noble should be well-read.”

“A sentiment I fear Ismaire still does not share.”

Joaquin heaved a great sigh. “I have long since given up on that girl. In any case, I have the tailors working on my designs, Albtraum will need more clothes. We cannot make a good impression if we parade him around looking like a commoner.”

Mianna smirked. “’Commoner’ seems to be quite a broad term to you, Joaquin. You thought the pope dressed like a commoner, when we met in Rome.”

“The fault is all his. So many changes have been made to the church practices through the years, and I haven’t the slightest idea why ridding the traditional garments of that _ridiculous_ hat was not among them.” Joaquin crossed the room to open the curtains, and the light filtering in was still dimmed by the overcast sky.

Specks of dust that Joaquin had brushed away from the desk glinted in the dim rays, and Mianna absently thought that the office was due for a dusting. “Well, it truly doesn’t matter at this point what impression he does or does not make. The tour is a formality, a goodwill gesture. I have the final say of who we put in power.”

“And will it be him?” Joaquin inquired, glancing at her from where he stood.

Mianna made a sweeping gesture. “Clearly, we have an abundance of alternate options.”

Joaquin smirked at her sarcasm, quirking his moustache to the side. “Surely there can be none better, not after the _vision_ you had.”

“It wasn’t a vision, Chronus _came here_ and spoke to me. If that doesn’t speak to the dire nature of the situation, I don’t know what will.” Annoyance edged into her voice, though not for Joaquin.

He sighed. “You need not convince me. I only wonder if the others believe you as well.”

“They have a right to be skeptical, of course. Chronus rarely appears before members of the Order, and only in the most dire of circumstances.”

“All the more reason we must make a good impression.”

Mianna was about to respond when she saw one of her guards passing by outside the door. “Glen,” she called, and he turned around, stepping into the office.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” He unconsciously straightened his coat as he stepped up before her.

“I hear you’ve been spending some time with our guest?” she asked him.

“Oh, yes,” Glen answered, relaxing slightly. “He doesn’t talk too much, but he still seems to be willing to cooperate and I haven’t had any troubles with him.”

She smiled. “That is good to hear. I thought I might ask you to take the next few days to ensure that he has some knowledge of horsemanship before we set out to the other kingdoms, as we will be doing quite a bit of riding.”

Glen grinned. “Of course! The weather’s been warmer lately, and it’ll give the horses more chance to stretch their legs.”

“Wonderful. You are dismissed, Glen.”

He turned and left the office with a nod, and Joaquin took a seat on the other side of the desk. “Well, I’d best get this place in order before we set off, and then I ought to make you a new set of outfits for the journey, since they’ve already seen the travelling clothes you have.”

“I am sure I have something I haven’t already been seen in,” she assured him as she stood. “But if you insist, I will not refuse new clothes. Just take care not to overwork yourself.”

“My dear, you cannot know me as well as you claim to if you think I can be overworked.”

With a laugh, she left him in the office, and left to the throne room, where she had some business to finish to ensure that things would run smoothly in her extended absence. Ordinarily, when she was away, Joaquin oversaw the kingdom’s operations, but she would need his help on this journey. They would have to delegate carefully to ensure the other servants were prepared to handle the kingdom’s day-to-day operations, but there were also matters she herself would have to see to before they set off.

It was bright in the throne room, the back wall being almost entirely comprised of intricate iron-framed windows. There was a decent gathering of people, and the chatter ringing through the high ceilings fell to a scattered hush as she entered. The gathered townspeople began forming lines to speak to her as she climbed the steps at the head of the room and took her seat on the throne.

She nodded to the first man in the row, a farmer she recognized from the outskirts of the town. His clothes were not as fine as some of the inhabitants of the inner city, but it was clear he had made an effort to look his best.

“Your Majesty,” he said in greeting, bowing his head. “We anticipate a rainy summer, which could mean a surplus of some of our crops. We might bring in more revenue by accepting an advance on our anticipated harvest from towns that import our goods.”

Mianna considered what he proposed for a moment before adding, “However, if your prediction proves false, you may not have enough crop for yourself after promising an amount to your importers.”

“That is the risk, Your Majesty.”

“I leave the decision to you,” Mianna said. “If you offer your crop at a profit and end up without enough for yourselves, you will not have the assistance of the royal treasury. However, you should no doubt be able to provide for yourselves well enough through the winter with the extra money you’ll have made, should it come to it.”

The man nodded again. “Of course, Your Majesty. We appreciate your leniency.”

He stepped out of the way and allowed the next in line to step forward. This time a whole group stepped forward. There were four of them, all boys, a bit dirty and rough around the edges, and Mianna noticed the guards on either side of her move their hands to their swords. She smirked at their cautiousness, thinking it unlikely these boys were capable of causing any real trouble.

“What can I do for you?” she asked as the boys seemed to consider who should speak first.

They looked back and forth at eachother for a moment before the shortest, a somewhat dumpy young man with dark hair, stepped forward.

“We’d like to join the royal guard,” he said, clearly trying to sound confident, though his voice rose at the end as if in question, rather than a demand.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the throne slightly as she looked over them. “How old are you, good sir?”

He seemed slightly embarrassed, looking at his shoes before answering, “Fourteen.”

She nodded. “And your friends?”

He seemed to hesitate. “Thirteen.”

She sighed. “I take it none of you have families who’ve tried to talk some sense into you.”

“We’re orphaned, ma’am,” one of the others said. His voice was high and unsteady. “We found our way here from the villages down the mountain.”

The first boy spoke up again. “We’ve been getting by on odd jobs around the city, but we’d all like to do something more.”

“I see.” Mianna shifted slightly. “And I suppose you are aware that I do not hire men who’ve not yet seen twenty winters into my guard.”

“We’re all good with swords, ma’am,” he pleaded, looking defeated.

“Better young men than yourselves who claimed to be good with swords have come to me to join the guard, and I have turned them down also. If you’ve need of better work you can work in the estate kitchens, assist the blacksmiths, or help the guards in the barracks. In seven years’ time, if you’d still like to join the guard, you may meet with me again.”

Mianna waved them off in dismissal, but they stepped forward. “Other kingdoms let men as young as we are fight for them!”

The guard to Mianna’s left did draw his sword, then, and stepped forward. “Watch your tone, boy! You speak to the Queen!”

Mianna stood, waving the guard off. “If I took offense to every citizen that ever spoke to me out of turn, I would never have time to get anything done. Please.” She turned back to the boys, and her tone hardened. “Other kingdoms are desperate for fighting men and care nothing for their citizens. I prefer not to hire boys into my ranks, as I would rather have a strong royal guard force than a large one.”

The boys backed down slightly, looking sheepish.

“Now, you can speak to the estate servants if you wish to work among them, or, if you would like to push this matter further, I will be sure you can find no work in the city either. You are dismissed.”

The boys shuffled off, and Mianna sat back in her throne.

“Forgive my outburst, Your Majesty,” the guard muttered.

“Quite alright. Do be sure you defend Sylva’s people with the same zeal in my absence.” Mianna watched as her servants spoke with the townspeople who had been waiting; often their concerns did not need to be addressed by Mianna directly, and having the servants to sort them out helped expedite her audiences.

“Of course,” the guard answered. “We will not allow ourselves to be intimidated by those who wish to do us harm.”

This attitude was and had always been shared by all of Sylva's people. Mianna hated to leave her home, but seeing the pride her citizens took in their kingdom made her confident that all would be well when she returned.

* * *

Brunhart was busy in the guard barracks, assigning duties to the guards who were to remain in Sylva during the queen’s excursion, when he was approached by the cavalry captain, Kalen Bashkir. The infantry lieutenant, Noman Grouser, was readying for his daily duties, checking over his weapons and strapping on his pauldrons.

“Captain Frasch,” Kalen greeted calmly as he approached. At least in appearance, he was older than Brunhart himself, with ashy blonde hair that was almost all gray, now. He wore the gray coat of the guard uniform, but not the deep green cloak over it. He had likely not gone out on his first watch yet. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you.”

“Of course,” Brunhart replied, and the young guards he had been speaking to stepped away as the older captain stepped up to the table.

“I’ve mentioned to you that I’ve been considering retirement,” he reminded Brunhart, taking a seat at the table.

“I hope you’re not planning on informing me of its start, not right before the queen sets out on an extended absence,” Brunhart asked, wondering where this was headed.

“No, no,” he assured Brunhart, waving him off. “Rather that I would like to recommend someone for my replacement.”

“Who might that be?”

“Glen Harlowe,” Kalen answered, nodding to where he stood over at the door to the barracks. He seemed distracted, talking with some of the other guards and glancing out of the doorway down the hallway ever so often.

Brunhart could not hide his surprise. “Him?”

Kalen chuckled. “He’s a bit flighty and softhearted, but he’s good with horses and lances alike, and a hard worker. I can tell you’re not convinced, but just bring him along with you on your journey, give him a chance to prove himself.”

Brunhart sighed, retrieving his sword from the weapon rack as Kalen looked over the guard assignments laid out on the table. “Alright. If I find he’s not up to the task I will choose my own replacement, so you know.”

“As I expected.” Kalen heavily placed his hand on the table and stood. “Do let me know if there is anything else I can do for you before you set off.”

“Are you not accompanying us?” Brunhart asked.

“We should keep both captains here in the city, and Grouser said he wanted to go with you. Says it’s been a while since he’s been out of the city. I, on the other hand, am content to remain here.”

“Not only that,” Noman added from where he was lacing his boots on a bench nearby, “The men said they could use a break from my griping.”

Brunhart sighed. “So you’ll come with us – and gripe on the road.”

He grinned. “Of course.” He stepped over and patted Brunhart’s arm, then walked out to the hallways to begin his day’s work.

Brunhart turned his attention once again to Glen, who was dressed in his stable clothes, and not his uniform. He was already supposed to have started his watch, and he was not even scarcely ready. Brunhart grumbled to himself and walked over to confront him.

“Glen,” he started sharply, and the young guard turned around to face him, startled. He had been conversing with someone standing outside the door. “I suppose you won’t mind explaining to me why you are not prepared for your duties this morning, especially not after I’ve just come from hearing Captain Bashkir sing your praises.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Captain,” Glen stammered. “I forgot to inform you – I’m going to the fields today, the queen requested I teach Al how to ride before we set off.” He motioned behind him.

Brunhart suddenly noticed that Albtraum was standing just outside the door, dressed in travelling clothes that looked to have been made by Joaquin, for the delicate golden embroidery of the trim and the rich quality of the fabrics. His hair had been tied back. He looked uncomfortable. He looked from Glen to Brunhart, seeming unsure of what to do.

Glen was looking up at Brunhart. “Sorry – you said Captain Bashkir mentioned me?”

“Never you mind,” Brunhart said with a sigh. “I suppose the queen’s orders do take precedence over your regular duties, but you must inform me from now on.”

“Of course, Captain, and I’m sorry for any inconvenience I might have caused you.”

“I’ll come with you, if you’ll have me,” Brunhart said with a nod.

“That’s fine by me,” Glen agreed, and stepped out the door. “Well, we’d best get going before we lose too much daylight.”

Albtraum followed behind Glen and Brunhart walked at his side, noting that the pup he’d given him was trotting closely behind Albtraum, tail wagging and pink tongue floppily out of a happily smiling mouth. Brunhart could not help but chuckle at the sight.

They left the estate and walked down to the small field just outside the estate courtyard, where the stables were. The sun was shining brightly, and Brunhart could hear the horses shifting and neighing as they approached. Glen led Albtraum into the rows of stalls, and Albtraum looked warily at the horses.

“This gelding here is Greye. He’s my horse.” Glen stopped at the stall, and Brunhart watched as Albtraum stopped beside him.

Greye was, as his name suggested, a speckled grey horse, a sturdy beast, if perhaps a bit too well-fed. Brunhart knew Glen to dote on all the horses, but Greye belonged to him, and Glen almost always came down to the stables with pockets filled with treats for the horse.

“Greye will help teach you how to ride, he’s very gentle.” Glen hopped over the stall wall and began working to saddle the gelding, stroking his mane every so often as he did.

Albtraum shifted from foot to foot, looking skeptical. “I’m not sure I trust these things.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” Glen assured him. “They’re just like dogs, only a bit bigger!”

Albtraum glanced back at his dog, who was sat on the floor, curiously watching the horses. “I… I don’t think they’re like dogs at all.”

Glen opened the stall gate, and the horse carefully stepped out. Taking the reins, Glen led the horse outside, onto the field, and Albtraum followed him out, the pup still trailing him.

Brunhart stood on the outskirt of the field, watching them. Albtraum seemed nervous as Glen locked his hands together to boost him up onto the horse’s back, and he took a long time to steady himself once he was sat in the saddle. The pup was dashing around the horse, nipping at its heels, but the larger beast seemed entirely unfazed.

They were far enough away that Brunhart could not hear them speaking, but he watched as Glen placed the reins in Albtraum’s hands and held a firm hand on his arm to keep him steady as the horse started forward slowly.

Brunhart thought back to how distrusting he had been when Albtraum first arrived, that he had viewed him as a threat and wanted nothing more than an opportunity to remove him from their company. As he’d been around him more, though, it had become far more obvious that the boy was just that – a boy – and ever since their visit to the corrupted village, he had been much more receptive, if quieter and more nervous.

Albtraum weaved in the saddle a few times as they rode around the open field, but Glen helped to steady him again. They rode back and forth, in circles, Albtraum mounted and dismounted a few times, to get a feel for it. He seemed somewhat more comfortable as the time passed.

After a while, Glen and Albtraum both walked back over to where Brunhart waited, sitting on a bench against the stable wall. Glen led the horse behind him.

“Time for a break, I think,” he said as he led the horse back into the stable stall and took off the saddle.

Albtraum stopped next to Brunhart, kicking at the dirt. His stance hinted at discomfort.

“I’m hungry,” he informed Brunhart.

Brunhart could not help but smile. “I am not surprised. What would you like to eat?”

Albtraum looked down the road towards the city. “A pie,” he said after a brief pause. Then, after another thought, “Two pies.”

Brunhart chuckled. “That hungry, are you? I take it you’re referring to Annette’s pies, then, I’m sure Glen has introduced you to them.”

He nodded as Glen stepped outside to join them. “Are we going to get pies from Annette?”

“It would seem you’ve given Albtraum a taste for them,” Brunhart answered with a nod as they started down the hill. Albtraum held Renegade as they walked, stroking the pup’s fur.

“I’ve meant to thank you,” Albtraum said suddenly to Brunhart as they walked. “For… Giving me a chance to resist him, and stand on my own.”

Brunhart was taken aback by the sudden nature of his statement, but responded with a slight smile. “You are welcome. I hope that you will take this chance to do better.”

Albtraum nodded back at him. Though Brunhart was not completely sure, he thought this might have been the first time he’d seen the boy smile.


	15. Chapter XIV

The strands of days slowly turned to weeks, and Albtraum became gradually more comfortable with his surroundings. At times Lucifurius seemed distant enough that Albtraum lent almost no thought to his presence.

Still, nervousness gnawed at the back of his mind. Lucifurius grew restless at times, and as he did, Albtraum was never far behind in his own restlessness. Their stances had forever morphed in his mind. Instead of standing side by side, they faced one another. Opposition.

The pains Lucifurius caused him were a constant reminder of this. Nothing was ever to be the same between them, moving forward.

And Albtraum was not certain if that excited or terrified him.

He was thumbing through the pages of a book one afternoon, having returned from having a meal in the town with Glen, when he heard a sharp rap at the door. He’d scarcely taken a breath to answer before Joaquin barged his way in. Albtraum had come to learn that the man seemed to enter most rooms this way, and nothing he barged in on seemed to have disturbed him enough to break the habit.

He carried armfuls of clothing. He had done so often over the last few weeks – and Albtraum had more clothes now than he was quite sure what to do with. He set down his book and curiously stepped over to examine them, nearly tripping over Renegade as he did.

“I believe you should have a complete functional wardrobe now,” Joaquin said excitedly, showing off the pieces he carried by laying them flat over Albtraum’s bed.

“Did I not have a functional wardrobe before this?” Albtraum’s eyes widened. “These are certainly… elaborate.”

Joaquin seemed mildly offended at his tone. “Of _course_ they are. You can’t attend talks or social events dressed in your everyday attire.”

Albtraum didn’t know what talks or social events entailed, but if there was a code of dress he figured it must involve a fair degree of tedium. “Well then… thank you.”  He’d heard humans expressing gratitude and had begun trying it out himself. Lucifurius, as with most human behaviors, found it grating and pathetic. Albtraum had grown fond of the way it seemed to make people light up when he said it.

“Of course, my dear.” Joaquin began folding the clothes again. “I’ve cleared my schedule for the afternoon so I might help you to pack your belongings for our journey, as we will be leaving in the morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Albtraum asked, somewhat jarred by the realization. His brow furrowed. As much as he wanted to see what else existed in the world of humans, he had grown somewhat comfortable with his routine in Sylva. He wandered into town with Glen from time to time, explored the estate with Renegade, spent the hours reading and whiling away the hours with the books Joaquin had given him.

Ismaire crossed his path and glared and threatened from time to time, but he’d mostly learned how to avoid her. It certainly didn’t hurt that most of the guards seemed to be on his side.

“Yes, all of our arrangements have been taken care of and it would not do to delay any further.” Joaquin patted Albtraum’s arm, seeming to sense his concern. “You’ll be travelling as a royal ward, so you can look forward to similar accommodations to what we’ve provided you here. Some of the inns along the way have—“

“And when the business is concluded?” Albtraum asked him, interrupting. “What then?”

Joaquin seemed a bit taken aback. “Well- I suppose you’ll go on staying here, or wherever else you might like to go. Until your responsibilities come calling, of course. But you’ll learn more of those when the time comes.”

More servants filtered in and out to help with the packing – though they weren’t really needed, Albtraum thought, as his belongings were scarce save for the many clothes he had. Joaquin chattered on about different types of occasions and the exact standard to which he’d need to be dressed, and Albtraum was only barely listening, occasionally nodding in acknowledgement from time to time as he played with Renegade on the floor.

“Haven't grown bored of Machiavelli yet, have you?” Joaquin asked him with a slight smirk as he saw that _The Prince_ lay open on Albtraum’s dresser.

“No,” Albtraum replied quietly. “I find his writing quite interesting.”

Joaquin grimaced. “To each his own, I suppose. I've always preferred poetry to dull technical prose.”

He noted that Joaquin had stopped talking after a short while, and stood curiously watching him as the servants went about their work.

“What?” Albtraum asked, somewhat defensive.

Joaquin seemed started slightly, as if Albtraum had pulled him from deep thought. “Oh, it’s nothing. I only thought… Ah, it’s nothing of importance. Do you have any business to finish here in the city before we set off?”

Albtraum shook his head, hooking a finger through Renegade’s bared teeth to tug him around. The pup’s claws skittered nosily on the stone floor and he let out soft, high-pitched grunts and growls as Albtraum played with him.

“Wonderful, then, you can take the rest of your time here to relax before we leave. Your injuries have mostly healed, but the more rest you can get before setting off on a long journey, the better.”

Joaquin was correct about his injuries. The scrapes and bruises he’d picked up in recent months were gone entirely, and the once-nasty gash across his face had faded to a faint pinkish line. The wound in his gut twinged from time to time as he moved about, but no longer required a bandage.

Was this how slow the wounds of humans healed? Albtraum did not know, since Lucifurius had always healed his injuries shortly after he’d acquired them. Though this pace of healing seemed agonizing, it was at least preferable to being at the mercy of Lucifurius’ whims.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Joaquin said, bringing Albtraum out of his own thoughts. He started to walk towards the door.

“Wait,” Albtraum blurted, and Joaquin stopped, looking confused. “You don’t have to. I…” He was unsure of what to say.

“Why don’t you come with me,” Joaquin suggested, looking the slightest bit… smug? Albtraum wasn’t sure.

Albtraum stood, and Renegade jumped at his legs. He followed Joaquin out of the room into the hallway. It was still early in the day – light from the windows flooded the spacious hall.

“You seem to be opening up the more time you spend here,” Joaquin observed as they walked.

“Opening up?” Albtraum questioned with a raised eyebrow, unsure of what he meant.

“There’s more and more to you each time we speak,” Joaquin clarified, gesturing vaguely at him.

“There’s no more to me than there’s ever been,” Albtraum muttered.

Joaquin looked at him, smiling a bit distantly. “Ah, you’ll understand what I mean someday.” The expression slowly morphed into a concerned frown. “How much of your mind… do you share with him, really?”

“Lucifurius?” Albtraum asked, and Joaquin nodded.

_You don’t truly know, do you? And that… That terrifies you more than anything._

Albtraum sighed and tried to ignore him. “None of it. He can see my thoughts, and he can speak into my thoughts, and he can hurt me, but we are… separate beings. He can’t control me.”

_Oh, the stories you tell yourself… They would be amusing if they were not so pathetic._

“Hurt you?” Joaquin’s concern seemed to grow.

“Yes, when I do something that displeases him, he can make me feel pain… Worsen pains that already exist, or make new ones. Mostly splitting headaches… as if hearing him ramble all hours of the day was not headache enough.”

 _My, what a wit you have!_ Lucifurius snarled in the back of his mind, sardonic and venomous.

Joaquin did not seem amused. “Inform us of these pains from now on, if you would… We may be able to help ease them.”

Albtraum was not sure they would be able to, but he nodded in response all the same. He watched Renegade trot beside them as they headed down the stairs.

Joaquin stopped a few times as they wandered the estate to issue instructions to the servants they encountered. Albtraum noted that they were near to the guard barracks, and wandered over to see what was happening there as Joaquin lectured a particularly empty-headed looking servant about cleaning up the dust in the guest halls.

There were shouts and laughter from inside as the men were watching eachother take part in sparring matches. Some men leaned on the fencing of the sparring deck – a raised wooden platform contained by short railings - some stood back, half-watching, conversing among themselves. Albtraum noted Noman in the ring, and he seemed to be giving a difficult time to the young guard who stood against him.

A few of the men looked over as Albtraum stepped into the barracks. He noted that the tension that seemed to build around his presence in the weeks before had lessened, and perhaps had even gone entirely. For the most part, the guards no longer seemed to consider him a threat.

Brunhart and Glen were among those watching the sparring, and Brunhart approached as he noticed Albtraum enter the room.

“Finished your preparations for the journey?” he asked, turning to stand beside Albtraum and continue to watch the spar. Brunhart patted Albtraum’s shoulder, something he’d been doing often whenever they were together. Albtraum was not sure of the purpose of the gesture, but he didn’t dislike it.

“Yes,” Albtraum answered. “I believe so.”

He hadn’t noticed Joaquin entering the room behind him, and started when he spoke. “We’ve gotten his belongings packed, you should ensure your men do the same soon. Mianna wants to be sure we start on our journey early so as not to be on the road long after dark,” he said to Brunhart.

Albtraum watched the sparring carefully. Noman was a skilled combatant – he was older, slower, and heavier than his opponent, yet he still managed to outmaneuver the younger man, easily pinning him against the edge of the ring to deliver a “killing” blow with the wooden weapon he used.

Noman stepped down from the deck after the young man as he exited the ring, grumbling, rubbing his new bruises. Noman huffed and scanned the room, settling on Albtraum.

“Al, why don’t you get in there and fight a few rounds!” He exclaimed, grinning. “I’m getting tired of winning.”

Albtraum looked to Brunhart for permission, and found him frowning.

But Joaquin answered before he could. “He’s only just recovered from the injuries he had, and you’ll ruin the clothes I’ve made!”

Noman rolled his eyes, but Brunhart spoke up. “No, he should stay in practice for combat. It wouldn’t do for him to be unable to defend himself.”

“I’m capable of fighting,” Albtraum answered.

“Let’s see, then.”

 Brunhart stepped up into the sparring ring despite Joaquin’s huffing and muttering of disapproval and Albtraum hesitantly followed, instructing Renegade to stay. Brunhart motioned for Albtraum to take a weapon from the racks that lined the back edge of the ring, and Albtraum picked up one of the wooden swords that hung there.

“No,” Brunhart said, shaking his head. “Get a real sword.”

Albtraum frowned and went to pick up one of the swords from the real weapon rack. He lifted it and nearly dropped it, the tip sinking into the wood of the deck.

Startled, he tried again to lift the weapon. It was heavy – much, much heavier than he ever remembered any sword being. He could hardly lift it and keep it steady, much less wield it as he had before.

Was it simply that he hadn’t handled a weapon in so long? He’d spent years fighting, it seemed drastic for him to have lost so much progress so quickly. This had once been as easy as breathing, why now was it so difficult…?

Lucifurius answered his wandering thoughts with a low, mocking laugh. _You think the strength with which you cut down our foes was your own? You think you can do anything on your own, without me? You are nothing without me. You’d be dead in a ditch with no one to remember your name long ago without me to guide you._

Albtraum tried to hold the sword steady. Brunhart stepped over and took his hands, showing him how to grip.

“And stand a bit lower,” he offered, demonstrating the stance. Albtraum tried to imitate him, but between his growing distress and Lucifurius’ constant taunts, he found it difficult to even focus on what Brunhart was saying to him.

As much as he’d tried to resist the things Lucifurius said to him, he was no longer able to deny that the words carried some truth. He was weaker since they’d begun to separate. His body had been irreparably damaged. And even these people he was growing to trust… Even they had wanted Albtraum only because of his connection to Lucifurius, even if they were in opposition to him.

Brunhart stepped in front of him. “Albtraum?”

Albtraum looked forward to meet his gaze, feeling disoriented. “Yes?”

 _Kill him,_ Lucifurius growled. _Let me guide you again. Kill him. Kill him. KILL HIM._

Albtraum let out a tense huff of frustration and shoved the sword in his hand back onto the weapon rack, scratching anxiously at his arms with his now-free hand.

“I…” He started to explain himself to Brunhart, who looked back at him curiously, but all the words that came to him evaporated into a sigh. He picked up the sword again, but Brunhart shook his head and took it from him.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he said gently. “Something’s clearly got you in a state. You’ll not learn anything if your head’s not clear.” He patted Albtraum’s shoulder again. “Care to get something to eat?”

Albtraum nodded, and Brunhart guided him back towards the door with a hand on his shoulder. Glen had moved to standing nearer to Joaquin, and held a squirming Renegade in his arms. He handed the pup back to Albtraum.

“Perhaps you just need something lighter than a sword,” Glen suggested in greeting.

“Perhaps,” Albtraum agreed, feeling miserable. A dull headache burned behind his eyes.

Joaquin put his hand on Albtraum’s unoccupied shoulder. “Or perhaps it’s best to not worry about these things for now. There’s plenty of time to learn everything, but I daresay your etiquette needs some work before we visit other royalty.”

The way they behaved around him felt odd. Some small part of him still felt that he was wrong to disobey Lucifurius, but… they treated him with such care and concern, where all Lucifurius ever seemed to do of late was cause him pain and harm him.

_Worry not, child._

_They will realize, soon, how pathetic you are. They will abandon you, like all things will. All things save for me._


	16. Chapter XV

The sun had barely risen by the time Albtraum was abruptly awakened, shaken by the shoulder somewhat un-gently by Joaquin. It was still dark in the room.

“Good morning,” Joaquin greeted somewhat breathlessly, setting the candle in his hand on the nightstand. “We’ve got to get ourselves on the road quite soon.”

Albtraum mumbled incoherently as Joaquin tugged him out of bed by the arm and helped him out of his bedclothes, which he held awkwardly in his hands as Joaquin rifled through his wardrobe attempting to decide what he should wear. The clothes still held the warmth of the bed, and Albtraum found himself wanting to crawl back in and sleep longer.

The chill of the room and the uneasiness of standing there in his smallclothes did nothing to help this fact, and he sleepily rubbed his eyes as Joaquin tossed things at him – trousers, a tunic, boots, an overcoat – He fumbled to put them on and then stood still as Joaquin fussed over the wrinkles and circled him to tie back his hair.

“There now – check over the room and be sure you haven’t forgotten anything,” Joaquin instructed him.

He did so, finding nothing but Renegade still curled up on the bed. Albtraum called to him, patting his knee, and Renegade hopped down from the bed and followed along as they left the room and headed outside.

The guards had begun gathering in the courtyard, packing their belongings into their saddle bags, helping the servants load the rest of the cargo into the carriages. There was a damp chill in the air, and breath from the men and horses alike still clouded in the air. Joaquin handed off Albtraum’s belongings to him and scampered off to direct the servants as they worked.

Albtraum found the horse that had been assigned to him, an easygoing chestnut mare named Clover. Glen had picked her out himself, and Albtraum had practiced riding her enough to be comfortable on a longer excursion.  He began packing his saddle bags with books and an extra cloak Brunhart had given him for colder weather.

Renegade waited behind him, and Albtraum scooped him up to tuck him into one of the saddle bags. The pup squirmed but settled in after a moment, and Albtraum scratched at his ears.

Albtraum noted Mianna at the head of the group, already settled in the saddle of her own horse, watching the servants load the carriages, occasionally speaking to one of the guards. She looked quite regal among the rest of the people in the courtyard, none of the exhaustion of the early morning showing on her carefully composed expression.

Ismaire came out of the estate before long, looking sour and annoyed as she packed her own saddle bags and mounted her horse, specifically avoiding looking in Albtraum’s direction. Her clothes were plain and practical, almost as though she thought herself a soldier, and Albtraum was certain her satchels and pouches contained all manner of small weaponry.

 Mianna led her horse around to face Ismaire.

“Remember what we discussed,” Albtraum heard her mutter to the young woman. “You’ve written to your family, I assume?”

“Yes,” Ismaire huffed in response.

“Good. They’ll have plenty of time to prepare for our visit, as they will be one of our last stops on the journey.”

Albtraum watched curiously as Ismaire finished her own preparations and mounted her horse – she rode astride it in the saddle, and not side-saddle as the other women did.

Brunhart had joined the group by the time Albtraum had gotten mounted and settled, calling roll from a parchment in his hand as everyone mounted and readied to leave.

“…Mellimend, Yorke, Branco, Grouser, Harlowe…” He sighed in frustration as he looked over the list of guards accompanying them, then around the courtyard. “Where is Glen?”

“Haven’t seen him,” Noman grunted in response.

Mianna shrugged as Brunhart looked to her.

“Well, we can’t afford to delay. He can catch up.” Brunhart mounted his own steed, a massive, broad-chested black warhorse.

Albtraum frowned at that, looking around for him. “But…” He’d been looking forward to Glen being one the journey with them – the more familiarity, the better, in his eyes.

“He’ll catch up,” Brunhart assured him, starting his horse off down the road. Albtraum kept checking over his shoulder for Glen – after a while he glumly accepted that he might not rejoin the group.

Mianna had waited to ride alongside Albtraum as he hung towards the back of the group. She started her horse forward as he approached, offering a smile in greeting which he returned with a curt nod. He had begun to understand human social niceties – performing them, of course, still felt awkward and unnatural.

“You seem to have grown rather fond of this place and its people,” Mianna pointed out.

“I have,” he answered, seeing no reason to lie. Though he still felt out of place among the people of the city, and fondness was not a concept he was well versed in, he knew it was what he felt for this place and its people.

“Good,” she answered warmly. “I must say, I am rather impressed with how you’ve gotten on. The other rulers will quite like you, I think.”

“Joaquin says I’ve got etiquette to learn before I meet them,” Albtraum said, fidgeting with the sleeves of his coat.

Mianna nodded. “He is right. Thankfully, you’ve plenty of time to learn on the road. I have things to teach you as well. And our first host is probably the most forgiving of the lot.”

“Forgiving enough to host someone like me?”

She smirked. “There’s quite an air of mystery about you, Albtraum. Nobility find that intriguing. Intriguing enough to perhaps look past the more… colorful parts of your history.” She motioned to him. “Besides, your time in Sylva has made you almost an entirely new man. Without your ghastly mask and coat of grime, no one will ever recognize you.”

She left him then, as he was contemplating her words, and rode ahead into the group, conversing casually with the guards.

They had nearly arrived at the city gates when a rider on a horse came galloping up to the group. Albtraum recognized the horse as Greye – and the rider as Glen. He had a large satchel over his shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late, Captain!” he called to Brunhart at the head of the group. “Annette made pies for everyone for the road – here’s yours!”

Brunhart looked to be ready to lecture Glen, but just sighed and mumbled his thanks. Glen weaved his way through the rest of the group to hand out the pies. Albtraum felt the corner of his mouth quirk up in a half-smile as Glen made his way over with a pie in hand. It was wrapped in parchment paper and pleasantly warm in his chilled hands as he accepted it.

“And here’s one with no potatoes for you!” Glen said to him.

“Thank you,” Albtraum said around a bite of the pie. He struggled for something else to say. “I was worried you weren’t going to come,” he decided on, feeling a bit silly.

“I wouldn’t miss this,” Glen laughed. “I’ve never been on an excursion this long, I’ve been looking forward to it ever since it was announced.” He ate his own pie, and Albtraum settled into silence as he listened to Glen talk aimlessly about the horses and the road ahead.

Ismaire had ridden up on his other side after a while, and Albtraum glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to ignore her. Though from the corner of his eye he could see that she was scowling at him.

Glen finally acknowledged her presence. “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving Al alone, Ismaire?”

She snorted. “’Al’? The monster gets a nickname now?”

“Better than ‘Bonehead’,” Albtraum muttered to himself.

Glen clicked his tongue at Albtraum’s horse, and it moved closer to Greye. Ismaire took note of the action and glared at Glen.

“I’m not going to do anything,” she huffed. “Yet.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Glen said with a shrug.

Albtraum watched her with a frown as she pushed her horse to a trot and rode off ahead of them.

“Don’t worry,” Glen said, turning back to Albtraum. “She’s always been like this. You’re just the latest target.”

“She does this often?” Albtraum asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well… Not exactly to the extent she has with you.” He sighed. “But she’s very hard about justice being done. Probably can’t get her mind around the daemon in you – it is a daemon, right?”

“Yes,” Albtraum answered, quietly adding, “but I am of the same blood. A daemon as well.”

“Ah, well. Whatever your blood may be, I know you aren’t the same. You wouldn’t hurt people like it has.”

_You’d like to believe that’s true, wouldn’t you?_

Albtraum frowned. “I suppose I wouldn’t.” He was unsure of who exactly he was answering.

After a while had passed and Glen had fallen mostly silent, Albtraum reached into his saddle bag to withdraw the book he was currently reading – Chaucer’s _Canterbury Tales –_ and he continued to read through it, occasionally looking up and around the group, quietly observing the behavior around him. There was an air of excitement about the guards and the few servants that had joined them, but Albtraum wasn’t sure if he quite felt the same. Renegade squirmed and shifted, and Albtraum reached over to scratch his ears and feed him the last few bites of pie he had.

He distantly noted that he recognized the road they were on, the same one he’d taken to enter Sylva with Lucifurius’ guidance. It seemed hardly the same now, but then again most things were new and unfamiliar now.

The road wound down the mountains and into the forests, a damp chill becoming evident in the air as the group ventured beyond where the sun’s warm rays could penetrate. Albtraum knew the path – and he recognized the structure they passed along the road. The temple.

The aura it exuded was just as familiar – but no longer did it feel welcoming. It was malevolent and unsettling, and Albtraum felt the back of his neck prickle with icy dread.

“This was one of the first rifts that appeared in our world,” he heard Mianna say from where she’d ridden up behind him. “The temple was built to contain it... To observe it. It’s been abandoned for years, and we of the Order are forbidden from entering.”

Albtraum wondered who there was to forbid Mianna from doing anything. She seemed to be a high authority.

 _Nothing but delusions of grandeur. She is but an insect compared to the power I wield,_ Lucifurius commented.

 _I suppose that’s why she commands a whole kingdom and you command one boy,_ Albtraum shot back.

Everything went white for an instant.

_Your boldness is not amusing, child. Either you will learn your place, or you will die with the rest of them._

Albtraum blinked through the dizzying pain, finding himself disoriented and confused as he looked around the forest floor.

He’d fallen from the horse. He could hear Renegade whimpering from the saddle bag. Brunhart placed a hand on his back to steady him as he sat up. Joaquin was hovering nearby as well.

“Are you alright?” Mianna asked him as she dismounted from her own horse, an emotion in her voice that he couldn’t read.

“I…” He stood, leaning on Brunhart’s arm for support. He looked up, seeing that the group had stopped, everyone glancing curiously at him. Joaquin moved over to dust him off and straighten out his clothes. “It’s fine. I upset Lucifurius.” He reached for him in his mind, trying to gauge his mood – but Lucifurius had withdrawn, silent.

That wracked Albtraum’s nerves far more than Lucifurius’ ire.

Mianna’s brow furrowed at him, waiting for further explanation, but he walked back to mount his horse. Glen had dismounted to help him, and Albtraum gratefully accepted his help as he climbed back into the saddle.

“You alright?” Glen asked, handing him the reins again.

He nodded, feeling embarrassed, glad that everyone had for the most part stopped looking at him.

Brunhart and Joaquin stepped up as Mianna and Glen mounted their own horses. “You can ride in the carriages if you need to,” Brunhart said to Albtraum, reaching up to pat his arm.

“One of the servants can trade places with you,” Joaquin added. “You only need ask.”

“I’m fine,” Albtraum assured them again, and they seemed to relent.

Lucifurius was silent all the rest of their time on the road that day.

Once again, it did not feel like a relief.

* * *

The chill in the air had turned bitter by the time they reached the inn, and Brunhart was glad to be inside again. The inn had been largely empty before the group arrived, but now bustled with activity, the guards eating and drinking in the inn’s dining hall, tired from the long day on the road.

The innkeeper was discussing something with Mianna, and Joaquin was looking about the place with mild disdain. It was comfortable and well-kept, if a bit small, but obviously not up to Joaquin’s somewhat outlandish standards. Brunhart spotted Albtraum among the guards in the dining hall.

“Always a pleasure to have you, your Majesty,” the innkeeper said in closing to Mianna. Brunhart recognized him, but he had been the son of the innkeeper the last time they’d passed through here. He nodded in greeting to Brunhart and stepped away to let them converse.

“We’re keeping a good pace,” Mianna said casually. “It should only be a few weeks before we reach Terce.”

Brunhart nodded and started to shed some of the layers of his uniform, folding them over his arm. He looked back over his shoulder at Albtraum, watching him eat with the servants and guards.

“You seem quite taken with him,” Mianna commented, looking in the same direction Brunhart was.

“Well, he does need supervision and guidance,” Brunhart answered simply.

“Speaking of which,” Joaquin interjected, “we should be sure to educate him further before we reach Terce.”

“About the Order?” Mianna asked with a frown. “I’m not sure divulging information about our organization’s plans to him while he still houses Lucifurius is a wise idea.”

Brunhart felt something bristle in him, finding something about Mianna’s tone distasteful. “We can’t expect him to trust and follow us if we aren’t willing to give some amount of trust in return.”

“There is, however, also the fact that Lucifurius seems to be taking out his displeasure at being trapped by us on him,” Joaquin sighed.

Brunhart looked back over to Albtraum again. Though he had recovered quickly from the day’s earlier incident, he still seemed shaken and nervous, even now.

“There is that,” Mianna answered, more quietly.

“It can wait for the night,” Brunhart said decidedly. “It’s been a long day on the road.”

He left Mianna and Joaquin to discuss arrangements with the servants and stepped into the dining hall, sitting down across from Albtraum. He looked up upon noticing Brunhart, and watched him attentively, remaining silent as the guards chattered around him. The hall was noisy, fifteen men making almost as much noise as one might expect from a hundred. 

The men had stew and bread set out in front of them, and most seemed to be close to finishing their food by now, but Albtraum had hardly touched his.

Brunhart leaned over the table. “Are you feeling alright?”

Albtraum frowned, but nodded. He tore off a piece of bread and reached under the table, Brunhart assumed to feed Renegade.

He sat back again. “Your episode earlier startled us, that’s all.” He still felt concern lingering in the back of his mind, but tried to put it aside.

“I argued with Lucifurius when I shouldn’t have. He’s done that for as long as I can remember, when he’s displeased enough.”

Brunhart sighed, accepting a tankard and bowl from one of the servants. “Well, take care not to go out of your way to displease him, then.”

Albtraum watched him eat silently for a few minutes, picking at his own bowl. “I need to learn how to fight again,” he said abruptly.

Brunhart looked up from his bowl. “You shouldn’t be worrying about that now, there are many things that require your attention and there are plenty of guards to protect you.”

“I don’t want to have to rely on others to protect me,” Albtraum said, somewhat more forcefully.

Brunhart thought about the weeks he’d observed Albtraum up to now, how already he was a far cry from the feral, unwashed vagabond who’d turned up on their doorstep. For him to learn to fight again would of course be useful, but Brunhart felt wary of taking him back to the place he’d been before, even in such a small way.

Still, Albtraum did have a point. They could not eliminate the possibility of situations in which he would be without protection.

“If we have the time, we will,” Brunhart relented.

Albtraum looked content with that answer, and continued to slowly eat from his bowl.

Glen came up to the table with his own bowl as they ate, nodding to Brunhart in greeting as he sat beside Albtraum at the table. “I’ve gotten the horses all settled for the night,” he reported, slightly out of breath. The stables were down the hill a ways from the inn itself. He reached an arm around Albtraum’s shoulders. “You want to bunk with me for the night? You can tell me all about that book you’re reading.”

“You could read it yourself,” Albtraum suggested.

Glen shook his head. “Never learned. Not really necessary for working in the stables, you know? Maybe you could teach me.”

“I’m not sure if I know well enough myself, I… didn’t really learn.” Albtraum seemed uneasy.

“You’d make a fine teacher, I’m sure,” Brunhart assured him. Albtraum shrugged in response.

Glen dragged Albtraum off upstairs as soon as they’d both finished eating, leaving Brunhart at the table with the few guards that remained, talking and drinking.

Brunhart noticed Noman move down from his seat at the head of the table to sit across from him. He had already stripped down to his underclothes and taken off his boots.

“Feeling at home, are you?” Brunhart commented with a raised eyebrow.

Noman gave a low chuckle. “We won’t always have inns on the road, so I’m just enjoying the indoors while I can.” He nodded in the direction Albtraum and Glen had gone. “He’s certainly seeming different, eh? Hard to believe there’s a daemon in him now.”

“Not just in him, he’s one of them too,” Brunhart muttered. “Though that hardly seems to matter.”

“You certain of that, Captain?” Noman seemed surprised.

“Does he seem like a threat to you?”

Noman sighed. “That could be exactly what he wants you to believe.”

Brunhart shook his head. “He’s only a boy. And we need to treat him as such if he’s to come through this successfully.”

“So long as he keeps acting like one, there shouldn’t be a problem,” Noman said with a shrug. When Brunhart looked sharply at him, he laughed. “I’m not going to _do_ anything, Captain… A bit touchy on this one, are you? You are right, though, I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about from him.”

“Lucifurius, of course, is another matter.” Brunhart stood. “I should make sure tomorrow’s arrangements are prepared.”

“I need a few more drinks in me before bed,” Noman said, waving him off.

Brunhart climbed the stairs to the bedrooms upstairs, speaking with the soldiers to be sure they knew their duties for the next day – navigation, managing the caravans, guarding the wards.

It was warm in the inn, with all the fireplaces roaring, and by the time Brunhart made it to the room he was staying in with the other guards, he was glad the day was over.

He was just climbing into his bed when he looked up and noticed Albtraum and Glen sitting on one of the beds against the wall, leaned against eachother, fast asleep. The book Albtraum was reading was open on his lap.

Brunhart was about to reach out to wake him, but he seemed to be comfortable where he was, and instead Brunhart pulled off his boots, set the book on the night stand, and tossed a quilt over them both. Albtraum stirred slightly, but settled back against Glen’s shoulder.

Something in him railed against this journey, against taking Albtraum across the world to be touted to nobles and royalty before being sent to rule over a world he’d never even seen. He deserved a proper boyhood, more than being used as a political prop.

But he was, of course, the only option they had at present.

Brunhart crossed the room back to his own bed and settled in to sleep as the rest of the guards did around him. As he looked up at the log ceiling in the dark, he could only hope he’d be able to provide Albtraum with what he needed in the time they had.


	17. Chapter XVI

After another few days of travel, the weather turned.

It was ironic, Ismaire thought, that they be caught in the rain on a night they had to make camp, when all the nights they’d spent in inns the weather was still fair. The tents were holding against the downpour so far, but the chill of the damp air was hard to banish.

She looked around the covered area they’d set up, frowning at the pitiful little fire that crackled in the center. Her gaze travelled to one of the other covered patches, where Albtraum was sitting on a cot across from Joaquin, wrapped in a cloak, looking over a book. She scoffed. He’d gotten _quite_ good at pretending, but the ruse had never fooled her.

She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, feeling miserable. Sleep was not likely with the way the rain was keeping up, so she resigned herself to keeping watch with the other guards who were patrolling the camp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Brunhart asked her gruffly as she stepped up beside him, pulling up her hood to shield her from the rain.

“Keeping watch with the rest of you,” She answered, her tone matching his.

“The last I remember, you are a royal ward and not among the employ of the guard force.”

“I’m not going to mill about _reading_ like Bonehead’s been doing,” she said, looking up at Brunhart.

“Back in the tent,” he grumbled at her.

She huffed, and stepped back under the shelter of the tents, but this time she stepped over to the side Albtraum was sitting on. She’d keep watch in her own way if Brunhart wouldn’t allow her to do it with the rest of the guards.

Albtraum looked up when he saw her approach, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her. His dog was curled up under the cot, sleeping soundly, perhaps the only creature who could sleep soundly during such a storm. Glen was a few tents away, trying to calm the restless horses.

“So who is it we’ll be seeing first on our travels?” Joaquin was asking Albtraum, his tone somewhat coaxing as though he were delivering a lesson.

“Camlion Roane, the king of Terce,” Albtraum answered simply. “He hasn’t been king long, but hates being reminded of that because he’s lived in Terce all his life, and feels his claim to the throne is sound.”

“Well done,” Joaquin praised, patting his knee. “And his claim _is_ sound. Order hierarchies do not function the same as the mortal governments you’ve read about. Mianna chose Camlion for his position.” Joaquin glanced over to the cot Ismaire had sat down on. “Perhaps you’d like to join us, Ismaire? This is information you must know as well.”

“Mianna’s explained everything I need to know already,” she retorted.

“I meant the nuances of etiquette,” Joaquin snorted. “Something I have seen absolutely no evidence you understand in the slightest.”

“I address them by Your-Royal-Greatness and try not to spit on the floors. It’s really not that difficult.”

“If only it were that simple,” Albtraum muttered.

Ismaire watched him suspiciously, wary of his attempt to relate to her. Albtraum yawned and rubbed his eyes, shutting the book in his lap and setting it aside in the pack at the head of his cot. He blinked at Ismaire a few times, aware of her staring.

“You should sleep,” Joaquin said decidedly to Albtraum.

Albtraum nodded as Joaquin handed him a blanket for the cot, covering him and tucking him in as though he were a child. Ismaire scoffed quietly at this, and Joaquin looked back pointedly at her as she watched him.

What was it about Albtraum, she wondered, that had them all so smitten? Why was she the only one who could see him for what he was?

She settled into her own cot as Mianna finally joined them in the tent.

“This weather is awful,” Joaquin commented to her.

“Believe it or not, I have slept in worse,” Mianna said to him with a sigh, having a seat on one of the cots. “Comfortable enough, Albtraum? Ismaire?”

Albtraum mumbled something back sleepily. Ismaire grunted.

Mianna turned to face her, speaking in a low voice. “It’s important that you remember your eventual station as we move forward. Making a good impression on the other kingdoms will make all of our future dealings in this matter much simpler.”

“I know,” Ismaire muttered. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked over at Mianna, lowering her voice even further. “But there are more important things to worry about than etiquette. And one of them was invited along on this expedition.”

Mianna frowned in response, looking over to Albtraum as Joaquin settled in to sleep himself. “Your concerns are misdirected, Ismaire.”

“I don’t believe they are. You’re too soft.”

Mianna let out a laugh, stifling herself when she realized it had come out louder than she had intended. “I’ve been accused of being many things, by many people, but I don’t believe ‘too soft’ has ever been one of them.”

Ismaire felt her frustration welling up in her chest, and ran a hand through her hair. Can’t you see I’m only trying to protect you? But the words died before she could say them.

Mianna seemed to read her thoughts anyhow. Her tone was softer as she spoke. “You seem to forget who the ward is in this arrangement, Ismaire. The time of my life for others to concern themselves with watching out for me is long past.”

Ismaire squirmed and shifted, uncomfortable. She hated being talked down to this way, and by Mianna, of all people. For all the command she exuded, Ismaire could not help but feel protective of her. Especially after all she’d done, and the second chance she’d provided, away from the mistakes Ismaire had made...

Mianna was one of the last few people who saw any good in her. And Ismaire wasn’t going to let that be taken from her by this monster Mianna had insisted on taking under her wing, no matter how human he increasingly acted.

Ismaire settled back into her cot and watched the guards mill around the camp site as she tried to quiet her thoughts, listening to the rain fall on the tent covers as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The rain had stopped by the morning, but a chill still hung in the air, and the ground was soft and damp. The guards and servants were shaking out belongings that had gotten wet in the rain.

Ismaire was one of the last to get out of her cot, pulling on her boots and trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

Albtraum was standing off at the edge of the camp with the guard he’d seemed to have made friends with, Glen. They were tossing a fallen branch into the bushes, and Ismaire wondered what the purpose was until she noted that his dog was chasing the branch, returning with it to be thrown again.

It seemed to be such a useless creature, but Albtraum was obviously no fool. His mutual affection with it had earned him favor with anyone who witnessed it, and Ismaire found herself astounded at how gullible they all were.

She scowled as she packed her belongings and readied her horse for the journey. Their charted course would put them in an inn tonight, and Ismaire was glad for it – though she’d grown up in tents and spent most of her childhood wandering with her family, it had been in a much warmer and drier place than here.

As they set off, Ismaire rode into the middle of the group, looking around at the guards as they rode forward. So far it was quiet today, as the storm had kept anyone from getting much sleep and they were not in the mood for lively conversation.

Ismaire sighed. If she was going to prove herself, she would need support.

She rode up in between two guards who were talking, with whom she had sometimes sparred, figuring they would be a good place to start. Their exchange ended abruptly as she placed herself between them, and she nodded in greeting.

“Piotr, Edmund.”

“What is it, Ismaire?” Piotr asked with a sigh. He was not much older than her, but already looked far too perpetually tired for his age.

“What do you think of the ward?” She asked, trying to seem casual, looking around to see if he was within earshot, relaxing when she did not see him.

“She’s a bit of an annoyance, and needs to stop butting into others’ conversations,” Edmund grumbled with a slight sneer.

Ismaire narrowed her eyes at him. “Hilarious. I mean the daemon.”

Piotr shrugged. “He minds his business, and he’s caused no trouble with us.”

Ismaire huffed and shifted in her saddle to get more comfortable. “Really? That’s all? The fact that he’s a murderer hasn’t bothered you at all?”

Piotr shrugged. “If it’s that much of a bother to you, I should remind you that many of the men in our ranks come from less than saintly backgrounds.”

She frowned deeply, frustrated at her continuous failure to find any common ground.

They rode on in relative silence a while longer – Ismaire deciding to spend more time observing the guards to see who may be more likely to sway to her side – before Glen came riding up, straight to the head of the party, where he steered his horse in front of Brunhart and Mianna, bringing the group to a slow and awkward stop.

He was too far away for Ismaire to hear what he was saying, but she picked up a tone of alarm. Brunhart turned his horse back and set off in the opposite direction at a trot, ordering a few of the men to follow him. They split off from the road into the woods in different directions.

Ismaire rode her horse up next to Mianna’s, glancing over at her friend with the raise of an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Albtraum’s gone missing,” Mianna said with a mildly affected sigh. “He’s probably just wandered off the path a bit too far, but he could put himself in danger if he gets too far away.”

Ismaire scoffed quietly to herself. Put _himself_ in danger – as if some poor travelers were not in more danger from the daemon on the loose.

“I’m going to help them look,” she said abruptly, spurring her horse to a gallop before Mianna was able to say anything to stop her. She veered the horse off into the trees and rode until the forest became dense and thick enough that she had to dismount.

She started forward into the trees on foot, but hesitated, turning back to her saddle bag for her dagger. Mianna had advised her against bringing any weapons, saying they were more likely to cause trouble than protect from it, but Ismaire had of course snuck one into her belongings anyway.

She stopped periodically, listening for any unusual sounds. She could hear running water close by, and the guards calling for Albtraum a short distance away.

She moved in the direction she heard the water from, finding the trees thinning and opening up to a wide, fast-moving river.

Ismaire walked along the bank, still looking and listening, her dagger clutched loosely at her side. Perhaps she’d be so lucky that Albtraum had gotten himself so lost he would never be found, or better yet, that he’d fallen into the river and drowned…

But her hopes were dashed when she saw the bright scarlet flash of Albtraum’s hair through the trees up ahead, at the crest of the river’s falls. She could see as she approached him that he was somewhat disheveled, carrying the dog under one arm, breathing heavily as he climbed up the hill from the river bank.

He seemed startled when he came to face Ismaire. “I… Renegade ran off,” he said simply, staring back awkwardly at her.

They stood there in uncomfortable silence for a prolonged moment, and Ismaire realized as she heard the guards calling for Albtraum, nearly too far away to be heard over the roar of the river, that she’d stumbled upon the perfect opportunity. He was alone. Unarmed. Everything about his current state was unprepared for an attack. All she’d need to do was lash out with the knife, and keep pushing until she’d shoved him over the edge of the falls… It was doubtful they’d ever find him.

She gripped the knife tighter.

And stood fast. As if paralyzed, she simply stood, staring him down. She could not move.

It seemed like an eternity before he cleared his throat and said “We should go and rejoin the others,” before continuing to scale the hill.

She turned to watch him go, dumbfounded at herself, how she’d simply stood frozen, unable to attack him even though she’d had the perfect opportunity. Was it possible whatever spell he’d put the Mianna and the Sylvan guard under had begun to take hold of her as well?

Ismaire found herself unable to answer that for herself and swore to herself as she tucked the dagger into the pack on her belt, following after Albtraum to reunite with the traveling party.


	18. Chapter XVII

 

Their travels continued rather uneventfully over the next few days, and today they had paused in a village to restock their supplies.

Albtraum waited at the outskirts of the town with the caravans, looking down the hill into the village and kicking his feet at the rocks in the road.

_We know this place. You remember that hunt… do you not?_

Albtraum sighed at Lucifurius’ observation. The village was indeed familiar – he recognized it as the first place Lucifurius had led him to hunt. The cobbled streets bustled with activity, more than he’d seen when he’d passed through. On the outskirts of the town, the smithy stood – it had been long since abandoned, grass and weeds growing around its perimeter.

Something felt knotted and tense in Albtraum’s gut as he remembered the first kill he’d made there – but the memory was hazy, flat – as though it had been a thing he’d witnessed, and not a thing he’d done.

It seemed that had been an eternity ago, but Albtraum still felt the discomfort of the recollections creeping up the back of his neck.

Mianna had not left the caravans, likely to avoid drawing unnecessary attention, and stood at the side of one of the caravans, conversing with one of her servant girls. Albtraum approached them cautiously, not wishing to interrupt.

Mianna was quick to notice him, however. 

“I had thought you would join the others in the village,” she pointed out. She seemed to be watching the skies, as did the servant girl perched on the carriage behind her.

Albtraum simply shook his head. “I’ve come here before.”

Mianna seemed confused by his statement for a moment before realization crossed her features. “Well, if you’re concerned about being recognized, I don’t suppose you should be.”

Albtraum stood stiffly, watching the men return with the packed supplies, readying to continue along the road. “It’s not that. It’s…” He frowned, the sentence dying off before he was quite sure what he wanted to say.

Mianna looked at him curiously, subtly scrutinizing him. She often looked at him this way, and it made him nervous – as though she were intensely studying him, trying to solve some mystery about him.

If she only knew how little there truly was to know, she might be disappointed, he thought.

She glanced away from him after a moment, brushing a few stray chestnut curls from her face. “I understand it must be difficult to revisit an era of your life you have left behind, and would rather leave where it lies. But you are on a new path now… at least, I hope you consider yourself to be?”

“I believe I am,” he confirmed, tugging at his gloves as he waited for the party to be ready to continue.

The sharp sound of a falcon’s cry startled him from his wandering thoughts, and with a flutter of wings the great bird swooped down from the sky, landing carefully on Mianna’s outstretched arm. She wore a thick leather glove, presumably to protect from the bird’s sharp talons, and Albtraum watched curiously as she stroked its head.

“You keep this bird as a pet?” he asked, carefully examining the animal. He had only ever seen falcons at a distance, and this one seemed exceptionally comfortable in Mianna’s presence.  

“Yes, in fact, I have quite the aviary back in Sylva. This is Aidan, the most well trained of my birds; he delivers messages for me.” The falcon folded its wings as it settled onto Mianna’s arm, peering at Albtraum with mild interest.

“I had thought pigeons or ravens were more commonly used to deliver messages,” Albtraum commented as Mianna carefully placed the falcon back into the large cage in the cargo wagon.

“I prefer my messages to be clutched in larger claws,” she replied with a slight smirk.

Albtraum cleared his throat. “I would like to know more about your intentions for me, and more details as to what exactly your Order is.” He stood straighter and turned to face her, somewhat uncomfortable with his own assertiveness as he continued to speak.

Mianna nodded. “Ah, yes. I did wonder how long you’d be content to sit with the information I’ve already given you.” She motioned for him to follow her as she walked back to where the horses waited. “There is much to talk about – and some things even I am not fully knowledgeable about – so I suppose I’ve simply not been sure where to start. There are centuries of history to cover…”

“The fundamentals would be a good place to start, I’d wager,” Albtraum replied simply as he mounted his horse, and Mianna mounted hers.

She laughed. “All pragmatism, are you? That will serve you well in political endeavors.”

Albtraum was glad to leave the familiar village behind as they started forward again. He looked over to Mianna, waiting for her to continue speaking.

“There are a precious few people in the world who have been granted immortality. We estimate there are less than a hundred of us across this world. Some of us are more powerful than others. The more powerful among our number are members of the Order of Azoth.”

“And I suspect you are among the most powerful of this Order?” Albtraum asked casually, feeling a numbing pain prickling at the back of his neck as Lucifurius seethed.

“Only in this world,” Mianna replied simply. “That is where the matters of the Order become somewhat more complicated – There lies another world beyond the Rift.”

Albtraum thought back to what she’d told him before. “Where I came from?”

“Yes, though from what you have told us, you have no memory of that place, correct?”

He shook his head. “Nothing before Lucifurius guided me.”

Mianna looked out ahead to the road, taking the reins to guide her horse closer to Albtraum’s. “It is possible he has suppressed your memories. In any case, that is of little concern to us, as all that matters now is the path we take from here.” She turned back to him. “I get too far ahead of myself, though.”

As Albtraum watched her speak, he found himself in admiration of how authoritatively she spoke. He had once thought Lucifurius a formidable master, but his erratic temperament and lack of composure was a far cry from Mianna’s coolly unwavering command.

_Careful now._

Albtraum ignored the ringing in his ears. “Explain immortality to me.”

“Simply put, we are immune to the effects of time, and death in most of its forms. How exactly an immortal can be killed depends upon their position in the hierarchy of the Order.”

“The very lowest members of the Order are called Wanderers, although not all of them are without connections. We are not entirely certain of how most of them are immortalized, but unlike most others, they return from the dead to live again.”

“Return from the dead?” Albtraum asked with the raise of an eyebrow.

“These are exceedingly rare occurrences, but they happen seemingly at random. In many cases, they come under the employ of the Order. Brunhart and Joaquin are two such cases, both older than even myself.”

“Just how old are you, exactly?”

“You’ll not want to form a habit of asking a lady her age, but this year marks one hundred thirty-six for me.”

Albtraum started in surprised, blinking curiously at her. “That’s…” He shook his head, looking forward again. “Quite a number of years.”

She chuckled. “Brunhart nears two hundred, and Joaquin refuses to indulge me with specifics, but I’ve managed to deduce he is well into his sixth century.”

The idea of such a lengthy existence was staggering to Albtraum. He could scarcely wrap his mind around it. It occurred to him that he was not even entirely certain of how old he himself was – he had a vague idea what the length of a year felt like, but trying to multiply it over in his mind so many times…

He was glad for the distraction from that particularly complex train of thought as Mianna continued speaking.

“Above the Wanderers are the immortals of my own rank, the Earth Immortals. We are entrusted to overseeing the operations of the Order in this world – the other rulers we are visiting are my peers. Of the four of us, one is given moderate authority over the others, a position which currently belongs to me. We possess the ability to kill immortals below us, and eachother… But only if Azoth himself should sanction it.”

“Bringing me to the next rank, the Higher Immortals. At present, there are three: Z’xolkuloth, Azoth, and Theoria.”

Lucifurius started with alarm, and Albtraum knew that he recognized the names Mianna had spoken.

“Z’xolkuloth is merely the true name of Lucifurius,” Mianna explained as Albtraum listened intently. “Or rather, Lucifurius is a part of him. He has divided his own essence and used it to possess other bodies, but he does have a body of his own. As I understand it, he seeks to create a body for each part of his essence, to render himself invulnerable.”

“ _Each_ part?” Albtraum questioned with the raise of an eyebrow. “There are others?”

“One other that we are aware of, as well as Z’xolkuloth himself, residing in the dark world.”

Familiar hurt bubbled up in Albtraum’s chest – he had always thought, and Lucifurius has always spoken as though there were only ever he and Albtraum. They were alone against the world. Albtraum had been the chosen favorite, the only vessel worthy of Lucifurius.

More lies were stripped away every day.

Albtraum tried to ignore the growing ache that burned through him as Lucifurius stewed in his anger.

She nodded. “Now, I trust that you are intelligent enough to know not to discuss these matters outside of Order circles. Part of our duties of the Order are to obscure immortals from the knowledge of the rest of the world… Humans are, at their core, prone to greed and fickleness, so such power must be kept beyond their knowledge.” She sighed quietly. “There are many more complex matters to discuss and I have much to teach you, but since we will be working together, we should also get to know one another.”

Albtraum wrinkled his nose and scowled, looking forward over the head of his horse. “I’m not much for socializing.”

“Well, that will come to you with practice. You might start by telling me more about yourself?” She looked at him expectantly, and he felt as though he’d suddenly forgotten every word he knew.

He stammered a few times before managing to mumble, “I think you may know more about me than I know about myself.”

“There is more to you than your practical capabilities, which is all I am currently aware of. For example, you interests, your talents, your relationships with others.”

Albtraum’s mind was distressingly blank. He looked around at the landscape as if hoping it would give him an idea of what to say. His gaze settled on Joaquin, riding a ways off in the distance, casually conversing with one of the guards. Brunhart rode silently a ways behind them.

“I… suppose I have gotten on well with some of your citizens.”

Mia smirked, following his line of sight. “I should say so. Joaquin positively adores you, these days you’re all he seems to talk about. And I’ve never seen Brunhart go so soft for anything. And you seem to be making friends among my guard… I must say, I had my doubts about you, when we first took you in. But you’ve exceeded my every expectation.”

Though her comments about him had made him uncomfortable before, he found himself pleased with the praise and the confirmation that his fondness for his companions was well and truly reciprocated. “Is that so?” he replied, trying to seem unfazed but finding it hard not to beam.

“We did very well in choosing you for this position, and I believe you will grow into it even more the more you learn.”

He looked ahead thoughtfully, focused on nothing in particular. “Reading,” he said abruptly, and Mianna looked back to him. “To answer your question. I do enjoy reading. Lucifurius taught me many things, but he has also kept me from many things… Reading allows me to think with another mind, I suppose.”

“What an interesting way to put it,” she said with amusement. “You seem to have gotten quite good at commanding your dog, as well.”

Albtraum nodded. “I find it good to have him around. He makes for good company.” He sighed. “There is not much else, though. I’m afraid my experiences have been limited only to endless killing under Lucifurius, and the last few weeks I’ve spent in your kingdom.”

“Then you should be looking forward to having more experiences. You have the whole world before you, and practically endless time to take it all in.”

Albtraum nodded absently, still considering her words. Feeling uncomfortable as the moment of silence between them grew, he cleared his throat. “And what of you? Whatever little you know of me, I know nothing about you.”

“Mine is a rather more long and complicated history,” she replied, straightening out her dress as she shifted and settled into her saddle. “The brief version is that I was once a bastard peasant girl – I was raised by the village healer, my family all died when I was very young. It was just my luck, however, to be the bastard of a king, and when his reign ended, the Order tracked me down and placed me in his throne. Since then, I have ruled Sylva, a job I quite enjoy.”

“Your kingdom does seem prosperous,” Albtraum commented, attempting to imitate her earlier complimentary exchange. He squinted at her statement. “Bastard…?” He’d only ever heard the word hurled as an insult.

“My parents were unwed,” she explained. “Many societies have a stigma attached to this status.”

“Interesting.” Albtraum looked down. “I… apologize that you lost your family.”

“It no longer troubles me. I have had a great many years to make my peace with their loss.”

Albtraum thought about family, and parents, and his thoughts wandered back to Lucifurius as he stirred at the back of his mind. “Lucifurius… or, I suppose Z’xolkuloth is my father, so I am afraid the notion of family is rather foreign to me.”

“By blood,” Mianna confirmed with a nod. “But I assume you do not consider him as such.”

Albtraum had only a vague idea of what the usual relationship between parents and children was like, based on his observations of Sylva’s citizens over the last few weeks and the passages he’d read in books.

But he knew it was nothing like what he had with Lucifurius.

“I do not,” Albtraum said firmly, looking up again.

_Because you are so much more than my child. Our souls are bound together, we are one and the same, we are as if extensions of eachother…_

Albtraum found himself repulsed by the thought, and tried to focus on something else to quiet Lucifurius. He looked over at Mianna, and found himself at a loss as she stared back with jade eyes, waiting for him to speak.

He turned slightly in his saddle to face her, waiting for the drone of Lucifurius’ voice to fade out. “Tell me more about yourself.”

* * *

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon as Mianna continued on to elaborate about her life as Albtraum had requested.

“My brother and I were both children of the King of Sylva who ruled before me, and one of his courtesans. My brother was eight years my senior, and my mother died before I can remember. My brother raised me with help from the village healer… When he came of age, he was conscripted to fight for the Sylvan army. He planned to confront our father about our existence, but he was killed in a battle before having the chance to speak to him.” Mianna felt the ghost of an ache at the recollection, but the memory was so distant now it lacked any of the sharpness it had once had.

She watched Albtraum as he listened to her, his eyes glinting reflectively in the rapidly dimming light like those of a nocturnal creature. It struck her for a moment how normal he looked, despite everything – riding in his tailored travelling clothes, with his hair braided back, loose strands dancing in the breeze almost playfully. He was almost passable for an ordinary boy, but still there was an unfamiliarity to him, an almost alien sort of beauty in his features.

But for all that, it was his naiveté that Mianna found most endearing, and he seemed genuinely interested as she spoke.

“After my brother’s death, I was adopted into the family of the village healer, whose daughter my brother had been engaged to be wed to. Years later, the King of Sylva died, and I was found by the Order and groomed to act as his replacement. The man who taught me was Arion Raekyn. He held the throne of Terce, which Camlion Roane now possesses.” She nodded to Albtraum. “He was a Shadran. They are a race from the dark world which you hail from. He was one of the greatest champions for your alliance with us… In fact, his opinion swayed me to your side.”

Albtraum looked quite perplexed by this. “He did not even know who I was, nor I him.”

Mianna shrugged, breathing out a slight laugh. “That was Arion. He had such faith in you and the potential for your rule.”

“It would seem I have lofty expectations to uphold,” Albtraum sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. “If he no longer rules Terce, what became of him?”

Mianna looked ahead again, noting that they neared the next village, where they’d be stopping for the night at the inn. “He abdicated his throne four years ago and left to the dark world to fight for your cause. I have not received word from him since… I have no choice but to assume he is dead.”

Albtraum looked uncomfortable. “All this death. Does it not bother you?”

Mianna considered his question. Arion’s loss still hurt – four years was not long in relation to the life she’d lived, and there had been no confirmation, only a slow, dawning realization that Arion would likely not be returning.

“It does. But Arion knew what he was doing. He was aware that death likely awaited him there.” She let out a breath, and it made a faint cloud in the chill of the evening air. “And when you have lived as long as we have, you learn not to define things by their endings.”

Albtraum frowned deeply, and she found his expression hard to read. “I had no idea,” he muttered faintly. “A man was there fighting and dying for me, and I had no idea. I was not even aware there was a cause to fight for.”

Mianna tried to sound reassuring. “You cannot be blamed. Lucifurius kept you locked within his own mind… You were unaware of a great many things, among which was your own existence for a time.”

Albtraum did not seem entirely convinced, and remained quietly pensive as they continued along the road to the inn.

Mianna looked forward again and noted Brunhart riding against the path, turning his horse to ride next to Albtraum’s. He handed him a leather sheath. “I came across this in the market where we stopped for supplies,” he explained to Albtraum.

Mianna had never seen Brunhart so engaged, so… happy. He’d been a stoic man – and a rather cheerless one, she suspected – all the many years she’d known him. Albtraum had brought out an entirely new side to him.

Albtraum removed the sheath, revealing a slim dagger. He looked back to Brunhart for explanation, holding the weapon as though it might bite him.

“It’s lighter than a sword, and you’ve got a long enough reach to use it effectively. I’ll teach you how to use it well once we reach Terce.”

Albtraum sheathed the blade again, tucking it into one of his saddlebags. “Thank you, Brunhart.”

Brunhart reached over and patted his shoulder. “Of course, pup.” Mianna had heard Brunhart affectionately address Albtraum this way in the last few days, and Albtraum seemed to enjoy being called by it.

It was quite cold when they reached the inn, and Albtraum was quick to go inside, having forgotten to wear his cloak. Mianna followed after him, meeting Joaquin at the door.

“You’re not wearing your cloak!” he exclaimed, sweeping an arm around Albtraum and rushing him through the inn to the fireplace. “You’re going to catch cold…”

Albtraum looked annoyed, but he could not keep laughter from his voice. “Truly, Joaquin, you’d be shocked to hear the things I wore and the cold I stayed out in before…”

“I would be!” Joaquin interjected. “Just thinking of it makes me shudder.” He sat Albtraum down at the fire, motioning Mianna over to sit with them. “I assume the two of you still have things to discuss.”

Mianna sat, unwrapping the shawl from around her shoulders as she did. “Yes, now that we’ve spent some time socializing I should get back to teaching you the things you need to know about the Order.”

“You’ve explained the hierarchy, but I still have not heard of this organization’s origins,” Albtraum sighed as he watched the guards file into the inn, discussing amongst themselves their sleeping arrangement for the night.

Mianna smiled. Albtraum’s interest was encouraging, and she settled into her seat more comfortably as she readied to tell him more. “The origins of the Higher Immortals are still somewhat uncertain, so for now, I will begin with the beginning of the Order as it stands in this world.”

“The story of Septimus and Ishtar,” Joaquin sighed. “Mianna, I do so love this section of our history, please allow me to tell the tale?”

Mianna shot a wry look his direction, well versed in his passion for dramatics and stories. “I’ll remind you, Joaquin, that not only does this history belong to our Order, but my own family…”

“But you tell stories as if delivering a lesson in arithmetic,” Joaquin groaned. “Do your family’s memory this one service, and let me tell the story to our dear boy here.”

Mianna huffed, but couldn’t keep the amusement from her face. “Alright, then, go on ahead. Do be sure to mind the facts as well as your theatrics.”

Joaquin glared at her before turning slightly so that his body faced Albtraum. “Septimus and Ishtar were the founders of our Order as it is today. Ishtar was Mianna’s grandmother…”

Mianna noted something change in Albtraum’s expression. It was clear he tried to keep it from showing, but he blanched slightly, and seemed to be almost too focused on Joaquin, staring intently at him. Joaquin was, of course, too wrapped up in storytelling to notice.

Joaquin told the story, his voice thick with melancholy. “Many hundreds of years ago, the Order did exist, though its goal was then to make contact with the other world. They erected a temple around the first rift, the only known connection to it. Septimus and Ishtar were lovers… She walked the path of light, those who sought to learn all they could about the other world without ever entering it, keeping their distance, relying on conjecture. Septimus walked in the dark. A scholar. He wanted to immerse himself in the dark world to learn what he could of it--“

“And Lucifurius took control of his mind,” Albtraum interjected.

“Yes,” Joaquin answered with a frown. “Don’t tell me you’ve heard this story before?”

“No, I…” Albtraum shook his head. “Go on.”

“Septimus resisted Lucifurius as long as he could, but eventually the strain became too much. He began slaughtering innocents under the daemon’s control. Ishtar despaired to find a way to separate them, and there was none apart from the death of Septimus. Still, she tried. She spent her every moment trying to find a way. Septimus had himself chained beneath the temple where she and her colleagues stayed… But the newly formed Order learned of this, and they ordered her to kill him.”

“And so, Ishtar drove her own blade through his heart, Septimus offering himself as a sacrifice to hinder Lucifurius if even the smallest amount… After this, Ishtar made a pact with a being of the other world, and crafted the Order as it is today. She sought to keep a balance in the world, waiting for the one who would replace Z’xolkuloth’s place on the dark world’s throne, ending his corruption… And it was you, Albtraum. We’ve all waited all this time for you.”

Mianna listened as Joaquin finished telling the tale, and Albtraum’s expression had turned worried. Silence hung between them for a long time, the only sound being the crackling of the fire.

“There’s not a way to separate us?” Albtraum said quietly after a long time.

Joaquin frowned and started to speak, but Mianna beat him to it, finding herself reaching over to place a hand on Albtraum’s arm. “You have the potential to become his equal, Albtraum. A human cannot separate themselves from Lucifurius’ control, no… but you can. That is why you are the one we chose.”

The tension in his shoulders appeared to ease, but the frown in his expression remained. “I am not his equal. I will never…”

“No,” Joaquin interrupted. “Nothing about you is equal to him. You are more than he is, or ever will be.”

His words seemed to connect with Albtraum, and his nervousness seemed to melt away – Mianna watched them curiously, in awe of the close bond they already seemed to share.

It seemed Albtraum was building himself a family, one by one.


	19. Chapter XVIII

Some days later, they reached their destination.

Albtraum was somewhat tired from the long journey, and glad to be settled somewhere from more than a single night. He wondered how he had spent his life up until now constantly moving – for years, he had never spent more than a day in the same place, and now travel was somewhat exhausting, if highly interesting.

They paused at the crest of a hill to ensure the whole party was still together, and Albtraum rode his horse over to the edge of the path to look down on the city, amazed at its size. He could hardly see its end on the horizon. Until now, Sylva had been the largest civilization he’d visited – but this place was easily five times its size. The air was much warmer here than it had been in the mountains, and the landscape was lush with vegetation. Even from this distance, Albtraum could hear the activity bustling in the expanse of the city below.

“That’s where we’re going?” He asked over his shoulder to Joaquin.

Joaquin chuckled. “Oh no, my boy, not to that city. We’re going underneath it.”

“Underneath?”

“Terce is underground,” He heard Ismaire snap from a short distance away. “An Order city would never be so conspicuous.”

Albtraum bristled at her sharp tone, but kept quiet. He would gain nothing from confronting her.

Renegade scratched at his ear, trotting circles around the horses’ legs. Albtraum had been letting him walk alongside the party lately, as he was slowly growing more responsive to Albtraum’s commands.

Mianna rode to the front of the group. “I’ve sent word ahead, so we should go down to the gates. Camlion will be waiting for us, no doubt.”

They moved away from the huge city in the distance, circling around its border. They continued down into a small valley and found an unusually raised hill in the middle of everything. But the “hill” was flat on one side, Albtraum noted, and a stone archway with a heavy iron gate was inlaid into it.

They stopped at the gate and it opened, slowly, soldiers clad in bronze and leather stepping out to assist the party in entering the doorway. The inside of the hallway was dark, but Albtraum’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dimmer light.

“Welcome back to Terce, Your Majesty,” a guard who appeared to be of high rank greeted, helping Mianna down from her horse. He was stocky and heavily armored, with dark hair. “How was your journey?”

“Pleasant and uneventful, thank you, Guilliaume,” Mianna answered cheerily. “Camlion waits for us in the courtyard, I assume?”

“Yes, he has been quite looking forward to your visit. We will take care of your horses and equipment, you and your company can head that way where the King awaits you.”

The pathway was long and slanted, opening up into a larger room below. The rest of group dismounted and walked into the open area, the Tercian guards tending the horses and caravans. Renegade walked behind Albtraum, wagging his tail and sniffing the air. The footsteps of the group echoed loudly off the cold stone walls, and Albtraum found the amplified sound grating.

_We could make these halls echo with different sorts of sounds… The music of death and despair._

But not so grating as he found Lucifurius’ interjections.

There were a multitude of guards in the wide, open hallway. Albtraum had thought the underground might be quite dark and cramped, but the hall opened to high ceilings with many hanging chandeliers, bathing the room in a soft, warm light.

Standing in the center of all the guards was a young man, and Albtraum assumed from his lavish attire that he was their king. Despite this, he appeared barely older than Albtraum himself, only the whisper of boyish stubble growing unchecked on his chin. His ashy blonde hair stuck out every which way in wild curls, longer pieces falling over his golden eyes.

A wide, childish grin split his face when he saw Mianna, and he stepped forward with his arms outstretched, sweeping her into a rather undignified embrace. “Mianna! It’s been ages! I’m so glad you made the journey.” He was barely taller than Mianna, but still lifted her slightly off the ground. She looked exasperated, awkwardly patting his shoulders as he set her down.

“Good to see you as well, Camlion. May I introduce Ismaire Uemytlach and Albtraum, our wards.”

Albtraum nodded in greeting, and Ismaire grunted out a sound that might have been “hello”.

Camlion’s expression hardened slightly as he turned to greet them. “Ah, yes. Pleased to make your acquaintance. We may discuss our business tomorrow, you all must be tired from your journey. I will have the servants show you to your quarters.”

Albtraum found himself led away from the courtyard forward into the section of the underground city that housed off the royal estate. The overall atmosphere of the place felt quite similar to Sylva, lacking only its tall windows and sweeping, spectacular views. There was something cozy and comfortable about the firelight and enclosed spaces, though.

_We are creatures of the dark, of course. It is only natural you should feel more comfortable here. You will be more powerful, as well… The perfect time to kill again and rebuild our bond._

Albtraum tried to ignore Lucifurius entirely, a feat that was impossible, but the effort seemed to quiet him all the same. Albtraum was led down a hallway to a small but well-decorated room by the servant girl assigned to him, and he patted his leg to call Renegade to him, removing his cloak and messily folding it over his arm before setting it on the dresser. More servants entered the room carrying his belongings.

“Can I fetch anything for you, my lord?” the servant girl asked, and Albtraum looked over awkwardly, unsettled by her formality.

“I have all I need here,” he said quietly, relieved when she gave a brief curtsy and left the room with the rest of the staff attending his things.

The bedroom was small, but comfortable. Candlelight kept the windowless space softly lit, glinting off the stone walls and floors. This place almost made Albtraum feel like an animal in a den, huddled down under the earth. Renegade sniffed curiously at the bedding, continually interested in his ever-changing surroundings. The pup had grown considerably in the past weeks, his body growing taller and thinner, his limbs long and gangly with paws that seemed too large.

As the moments wore on, Albtraum found himself restless from travel, and there was little of interest to him in the small bedroom. Calling Renegade to his side, he quietly exited the room, following the hallway back out the way he’d come to the courtyard. There, he found Brunhart and Glen conversing with a few of the Tercian guards.

“I’d still like to check over their arrangements, if you wouldn’t mind,” He heard Glen say with unusual sternness and authority. “Our horses are used to far different conditions, and I’d like to be sure they’re settling in well.”

No one seemed to notice Albtraum as he quietly came to a halt behind Brunhart and Glen. It was Renegade who drew their attention, trotting between the two.

Brunhart was first to turn around. “Ah, Albtraum. Settling alright, are you?”

Albtraum replied only with a nod as the Tercian guards left them to their business.

Glen gave Albtraum a quick pat on the shoulder as he started to walk away. “I’ve got to go tend the horses, but I’ll find you later! We can keep reading through the _Canterbury Tales!”_

“Of course,” Albtraum agreed as he watched Glen make his way to the stables.

The Sylvan guards standing around the entrances to the guest hallways and overseeing the work of the servants transporting the group’s belongings seemed tense and on edge. It was the kind of demeanor he saw often in men at war… Poised to attack, looking for threats around every corner, the tightly wound knots of their shoulders easing only in the presence of those of their own kingdom.

It was not the behavior Albtraum would expect of people among friends, on a simple diplomatic mission.

Brunhart himself did not seem to share the concerns of his men, whatever they might be, at least outwardly. But Albtraum noted the way he casually swept his eyes about the room every so often… How, even after shedding his cloak and riding gear, a sword remained fastened to his belt.

Albtraum considered asking what had them all so alert, but knew he was unlikely to receive a proper answer. He was barely their ally himself. He fidgeted with his sleeves.

“Do you think we might practice with the dagger you got for me?” he asked after a brief silence.

Brunhart smiled slightly, an expression that always looked lopsided because of the scar running from the corner of his mouth. “That is a good idea. I’m feeling restless from our time on the road myself, and some sparring will surely help us rest easier tonight.”

Albtraum hurried back to his room to fetch the dagger before returning to follow Brunhart through the royal wing to the guard barracks. Brunhart informed one of the men they’d be sparring, and the man motioned them into the sparring ring with the raise of an eyebrow. Renegade flopped down against the edge, panting. His tail thumped noisily on the hollow wood of the deck as he wagged it.

Albtraum unsheathed the weapon and examined it. “Are you sure I shouldn’t be learning how to use a sword?”

“Daggers conceal easier, it wouldn’t do for you to be seen walking around with a sword on your belt in the position you’re in.” Brunhart stepped over and took Albtraum’s hand, showing him how to grip the dagger’s hilt. “It’s easier to wield, too.”

He stood back. “You’ll not want to hold it too high, your arm will tire quickly. Too low, and you won’t be able to parry your opponent’s attacks.” He took a wooden practice sword from the rack. “Let’s try.”

Albtraum felt a familiar and yet somehow entirely alien feeling as he fell into the stance of battle once again after neglecting it for so long. Brunhart lunged forward and took a swing, and Albtraum moved to block it, catching the wooden blade to his arm. He winced, and Brunhart chuckled.

“This is why we’re practicing now… Try to angle your dagger more with your opponent’s blade, you’ll avoid ruining your own edge, and more importantly you can catch them with your guard.

They practiced the parry a few more times until Albtraum was able to execute it with a moderate rate of success. He found it hard to believe he’d once done these things with such ease.

But then, he supposed, it hadn’t really been him then.

_Do not be so sure._

Brunhart moved to demonstrating how to attack with the weapon, and Albtraum found he moved with much more ease than he had with a sword, even when under Lucifurius’ control.

“You’ll have an advantage over those with larger weapons,” Brunhart explained. “You can swing shorter, while they leave themselves open.” He held the practice sword up again. “Go ahead.”

Albtraum lunged forward as he’d practiced, easily evading the wooden blade and lashing out with the dagger, startling himself as he caught Brunhart in the arm.

He stepped back, letting his weapon clatter to the floor, watching the bloodstain spread across Brunhart’s sleeve.

“I… I’m sorry, I…”

_Almost. Almost. Almost. Pick up the knife. Attack him again. Do not stop until we are one again._

Brunhart waved him off. “It’s nothing. Truly.” Albtraum watched in awe as the wound rapidly closed, leaving only a faint bloodstain on Brunhart’s sleeve.

“We can keep going,” Brunhart encouraged, retrieving the knife and holding it out to Albtraum.

Albtraum shook his head. “I don’t…”

_He invites it! And you throw away this perfect chance as though it were nothing! Have you any idea the power he could bring to us?! He is an army unto himself! Kill him, you fool!_

Trembling, he turned away from Brunhart. “I can’t… Not now. I…”

Brunhart placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you truly wish to learn, you will need to fight past your hesitations. You could not harm me even if you wanted to, so you should practice as though I were an enemy.”

Lucifurius laughed, a more acrid and searing laugh than Albtraum had ever heard before. _He believes it, he truly believes he is safe from us._

Albtraum pushed Brunhart’s hand away, more forcefully than he wanted to. “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “You don’t know what he can do… He’s…”

Brunhart stepped closer to him, speaking with careful patience. “Albtraum, you must not let Lucifurius intimidate you, and you must not listen to what he says.”

“Do you not think I am _trying?!”_ Albtraum exclaimed suddenly, stepping away. “Do you not think I would prefer not to listen to his endless talk, keeping me awake through the nights, speaking over my own thoughts? You have no idea the lengths to which I have gone to defy him, and to serve the purposes of your Order, or the lengths I will have to go to still!”

Brunhart seemed largely unfazed by Albtraum’s sudden shouting, but his expression had fallen slightly. He sighed and seemed to be preparing to answer, but was interrupted by the timid voice of a servant standing in the doorway. Albtraum had been so swept up in his distress that he had not even noticed her enter.

“Sirs, her Majesty the Queen requests your presence in the banquet hall,” the girl said, giving a quick bow. “Discussions with the King are to be held, and a feast will be served.”

“We will be there shortly,” Brunhart said, dismissing her.

Albtraum opened his mouth to say something, to apologize for shouting, or further explain his reasoning. But the words never came, and the slight confusion and disappointment Brunhart regarded him with killed any further chance of finding them. Renegade watched curiously, no doubt startled by the suddenness of the outburst.

_You have reminded him of what he has always known… You are a beast, a monster, and no matter what they do, they cannot tame it out of you._

“We should go to the banquet. I am sure you are quite hungry, we were on the road most of the day,” Brunhart suggested gently.

Miserable and ashamed, Albtraum followed him out of the room.


End file.
